


A Home for Two

by Checquers



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Slow Burn, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22127365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Checquers/pseuds/Checquers
Summary: (this will be the longest fic I will ever write)He could almost agree that it was nice to have company.Something different from the usual silence and cold loneliness that pierced his soul. But would he end up killing them before understanding what the warm beat of his heart meant?Only time would tell.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You
Comments: 52
Kudos: 322





	1. Good Morning Stranger

Michael yawned as he slowly woke. He was going to do his daily ritual of just enjoying the silence of his home… But there was walking from downstairs. Michael sighed, how long would it be before people just stayed out?? It wasn’t like Judith was haunting the place. Hell the only thing that really haunted the Myers house was him. Slowly creeping to the top of the stairs he listened to the sounds below,

“Oh! Sheriff, good morning!” 

“Well, good morning stranger. Can I ask what you’re doing?” 

“Moving in! I bought this house recently.” Michael stiffened. Someone bought the house? Michael kept peering. This wasn’t right… No one was interested in buying the Myers house. It was a bad house. Michael Myers go to hideaway. This was some sort of joke. But as he kept looking there were boxes piled in the doorway,

“Mind if I help you then? Just to welcome you to town.” 

“Sure!” Michael retreated to his room silently. He grumbled to himself. Normally he would’ve just killed anyone brave enough to trespass onto his property. But this was different. This person lived here now. If they died people would definitely suspect him, or at least something in the house. Sighing he looked out the window and to the very run down shed in the back. It wasn’t comfortable but it was somewhere he could hide. Slipping out of the window silently he crept onto the roof and out to the shed. The shed was messy and filled with pointy objects but it was better than sleeping outside. Settling into the farthest corner of the shed Michael grumbled and fell asleep. 

When Michael woke, it was to crickets and overall silence. Creeping out of the shed, there wasn’t any movement from the house. Much to his surprise the window he’d left the house from was still open. 

Crawling back through Michael was doubly surprised to see the old mattress he’d been sleeping on replaced, with his- oh fuck… He’d left his extra clothes under the bed. He internally cursed to himself. Looking again Michael noticed they were devoid of the usual dirt stains from being stored on the floor. They were also neatly folded with a note on top,

Hi! To whomever these belong to, I thought I’d wash them for you. I understand it’s pretty sudden of me to be moving into this abandoned house. Sorry!

Michael paused, tilted his head and reread the note. An apology?? To him. Michael Myers. Sighing he sat on the mattress and lied down. He practically melted when his back hit the plush fabric. So he had to admit, this was pretty nice. He was content to just enjoy the plushness of the mattress slowly letting his eyes close. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes, but when Michael opened his eyes, gentle sunlight was flooding into his room. His muscles tensed as he shot up. What in the hell was wrong with him?? Angrily he got out of the bed, grabbed his clothes and left the house. 

Back in the shed Michael tapped his foot angrily. Had you come in?? Did you see him? Every so often he peeked out of the shed. But for hours there was no movement. Finally around noon he saw something. In the window of his room you appeared. He couldn’t tell what you were holding but when you looked out of the window he could see you smiling. 

You left only a few minutes later and for the rest of the day didn’t enter the room. Michael grumped as night fell and though he was sure the house didn’t have electricity, he waited till all the dim glows he could see were gone. As he clambered back into his room there were blankets on the bed, and another note.

I thought you might like these. Mystery stranger.

Michael huffed. Surely if you found out who he was, you’d rethink being so nice. But… what if you continued to be nice? Michael scoffed, no, you wouldn’t. Living with Michael Myers is something teens said they’d rather do then some other equally bad situation. 

Quietly he opened the door. It didn't squeak, Michael had figured out how to move silently around the house weeks ago. Padding through the house he heard your gentle breathing come from the room his parents had used. He decided to leave you alone for now. You weren't causing him any trouble and he didn't feel inclined to end your life just yet. 

The door to his sisters room held his attention though. Cracked open the slightest bit, there was a gentle glow. Peeking inside, Michael found a small shrine of sorts. Perhaps a vigil was a more apt name? Either way there on the windowsill was a picture of Judith. Hazy memories of his sister filtered through. She was nice enough. Maybe a little absorbed in her boyfriend. Michael liked Judith. Not that sentiments did much now. 

Blowing out the candle he headed downstairs. Tarps lay over new furniture and paint supplies were scattered everywhere. Though it was dark Michael could sort of tell what the new colour was. Either a blue or white. He liked it. 

In the kitchen, there were still a ton of boxes. It seemed you hadn’t gotten around to unpacking here yet. But all was not lost. There was food on the counter. A small package of cherry tomatoes, it was already open, and in Michael’s eyes. Fair game. Popping a few in his mouth he peered out of the kitchen window. Although he was creeping around in the middle of the night, he felt halfway normal. Eating real food than the sad excuse they had at Smith’s Grove, and just being free in his own house… Kind of his own house. Speaking of food, Michael was delighted to be eating something. The last time he’d eaten he couldn’t remember but he was about two hours away from eating another dog. The tomatoes he decided, tasted much better. Looking to his side he spied a container of grapes. 

His mouth watered, grapes were good. He couldn’t remember how he knew that. He just did. Childhood maybe?? No, focus, he thought. Grapes. Slinking over to the container he could tell it would be too loud to open the container. 

There were holes in the top but the grapes were too far down and Michael could barely get his finger out. He grumbled, resigned to opening the container. Slowly he pulled the plastic lid up from the rest of the container. He was as gentle as he possibly could when-

POP

Of course the damn thing had to make one of the biggest noises Michael had heard in a while. Hissing he snagged as many grapes as he could before leaving the house through the back door. As he left he could hear you stirring upstairs. 

In the shed Michael ate his grapes halfway focussed on seeing what you would do, and halfway focussed on marvelling how much better grapes were compared to dogs! Michael cursed Loomis, if he could ever get his hands on that rat… He’d show him who the real evil was. Leaning against the wall of the shed, his body shivered. It would be winter soon… Glancing back at the house he thought about the blankets waiting for him. It seemed you were wholly okay, with some strange unseen roommate. At least… you were. Michael would wait a few hours to see if you’d called the police thanks to his midnight grape theft.

But when no police came Michael stole away into his room. Locking the door he slipped into bed and for the first time in a long time. Slept soundly through the night. Warm in the sheets his boots neatly placed at the foot of the bed. 

When he woke he heard the doorknob jiggle and he quickly hopped out of bed and placed his full weight at the door. He heard you gasp from the other side before sighing,

“I was wondering who locked the door. Good to know you actually exist.” Michael breathed heavy unsure of what to do. Quietly he heard shuffling and a plate being placed on the ground,

“Not big on talking? That’s okay. I know this is probably weird… I guess it’s just nice to not be so lonely… I’ll get you a notepad soon so you can talk back if you like.” Michael sat awkwardly with his back to the door. You were acting like you’d known him for months. Like this was just another day,

“Can I slip something into the room? I won’t look at you or anything. Just a gift.” Michael hesitated. But… You hadn’t tried anything so far. Slowly he unlocked the door and cracked it open a bit. Slowly you pushed a bowl of grapes in and quickly retreated, closing the door for him. With a gentle click he locked the door again. He heard you laugh,

“Next time, maybe don’t open those at midnight.” Quietly he took the bowl popping a grape in his mouth. You continued on about most anything,

“See, I like this house. Last time I was here, it was cold and lonely. But on day one here, it was almost alive. I guess when someone has made a house their home, everything brightens up huh?” Michael huffed. What would you do if he opened the door? Run, scream, beg for your life? 

But...none of that seemed quite right. This was the first time he’d ever heard your voice for an extended amount of time. But from how you spoke, and mentioned how weird you must be… Michael couldn’t help but wonder what you would do. Maybe you would be startled, after all it wasn’t lost to Michael that he was incredibly tall. But perhaps… You’d be alright with him. He heard you groan,

“Well, I’m off to work, but maybe you’ll be around later?” Michael stayed quiet. You laughed,

“Oh, and you’re allowed to look at the rest of the house while I’m away. You don’t have to just eat at midnight.” Michael listened to your footsteps fade away and creak down the stairs. The door closing rattled the house slightly. Michael sat motionless thinking of everything you had said to him. 

He could almost agree that it was nice to have company.


	2. Midnight Ventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From that day forth Michael stayed exclusively in his bedroom. He ventured out once or twice during the day, but it was rare and usually only for the fruit bowls you occasionally left out for him. 
> 
> But what would the night hold?

From that day forth Michael stayed exclusively in his bedroom. He ventured out once or twice during the day, but it was rare and usually only for the fruit bowls you occasionally left out for him. Not only that but it was winter now. And as strong as he was, Michael had been raised in an asylum. Too long in the cold would have him coughing up his lungs, sicker than hell, he was sure. But you kept the house warm for the most part. The occasional draft seeped into his bones, but it wasn't like you could do much.

You'd gotten the notepad too. It was just a regular lined notepad but it worked fine. As Michael pulled himself out of his bed with blankets wrapped around him the notepad slid under the door,

"Morning sleepyhead." Michael smiled absently. You treated him like he was a roommate. Everyday he grew eager to converse with you like this. Just talking to someone else who wasn't a nurse, doctor, or patient who was objectively crazier than him, was refreshing. The talks in themselves entertained Michael too. Quietly he wrote on the paper before sliding it back. You giggled,

"Hey, so I was wondering if I built a snowman today would you like it in view of your window?" The pad slipped back,

Why would I want that? He wrote.

"I mean it's something better than the shed and snow. Something fun to look at." 

I'll be fine.

And conversation continued. Michael yearned to see your face again. His only reference was that one sunny day. When you had brought the blankets to his room. He couldn't bring himself to sneak into your room though he knew he could. He scribbled a note on the pad,

What do you look like? It wasn't the weirdest thing he'd asked. He already knew your favourite colour, favourite movie, snack food, and how half of the people you worked with were absolutely stupid; along with your age which was surprisingly close to his. You were silent as you read the note. Michael worried he'd crossed a line. The door creaked against a weight on the other side,

"Are you blind?" Michael hastily wrote, No. On the sheet. You were silent. Michael sighed leaning against the door too. He couldn't understand why this relationship made him so happy. But that didn't mean he wanted to lose the sudden closeness he'd been granted,

"So you've never snuck into my room to look at me? Seen me from afar?" Michael shrugged as if you were watching. 

I saw you once, outside, but nothing to give me a good reference. I barely remember what you looked like then.

Why would I go into your room??

Michael knew why. You made a sound of pause before running away from the door. He sank into his shoulders. Oh, now he'd done it. You were calling the police, well it was nice to feel normal for at least a few months. But when your feet came running back another paper was harshly slid under the door. Michael slowly picked it up. And it clicked, it was a picture. A picture of you. He smiled to himself as his hand traced the curve of your face. As small as he could he wrote on the notepad,

Thank you.

He almost wrote something else but stopped. You giggled,

"Not a problem… uh get can I at least have a name for you?" Michael gave an amused huff. Well played. He thought before giving out something close to his name,

M. That's good enough right?

He could practically hear you smile,

"Yes! Nice to meet you M." He shook his head smile never fading as you told him your name in return.

I'm going to take a nap.

You laughed sliding the pad back and gently knocking,

"That's all you ever do. What, are you hibernating? Have a good nap M." With that you walked away. Michael trudged back to bed. Curled in the blankets and new pillows, he fell asleep. His head devoid of the usual nightmares and screaming. Instead with your picture gently held to his chest, he dreamed of you. 

Life carried on and Michael was content. Winter finally came and Michael was stuck inside. When you would be away he would take a shower, maybe clean his coveralls. Live as though he weren't hearing voices. Without the threat of being discovered, he would feel ordinary. 

Sometimes you would bring home gifts. Most recently? You’d gotten him a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Somehow using just the measurements of his waist and legs, you’d found pants that fit him, rather comfortably. The hoodie too, in a plain back, fit him loosely. It was a nice change from the usual coverall sleeves tied around his waist as pants. Yet he couldn’t ignore the nagging thought of meeting you face to face. It was a small thought. But sometimes it would keep him glued to the floor of his room listening to the creaking of the house.

He couldn’t tell what time it was when he woke once more. But he knew something wasn’t right. He could hear whimpering, your whimpering. Upright in seconds, he was zipping up his coveralls and silently putting his boots on. When he heard a thump, followed by coughing and harsh laughter, he opened the door.

Michael Myers knew every creaking floorboard in this house. And he was going to use them. The door when opened quickly, would whine. So Michael threw it open. Letting it slam against the wall. Voices gasped from downstairs. He didn't care what they were tittering about. Slipping into your room Michael hid behind the door. A single set of feet stomped up the stairs. Michael watched from a crack, as a stranger peeked into his room. Slowly the stranger slipped in. Once they had fully entered Michael shoved them into his room and locked the door. 

Immediately Michael crept down the stairs and into a closet. Two more people passed Michael by as their friend began to yell. When they were out of sight Michael slid into the kitchen. He eyed the knife set. But grabbed a phone instead. 

In the living room he finally found you. Bruised and beaten. The last stranger with his back turned. They'd put a blindfold on you. Something Michael was thankful for. Taking the bat that you'd left by the backdoor he swung it at the last stranger. There was no sickening crack. Hell, Michael hadn't even put any strength into the hit. But the man went down all the same. Michael covered your mouth and dragged you into the coat closet. You struggled against him, afraid. He didn't blame you.

He held you gently petting your head. Slowly you stopped struggling. He removed his hand,

"M?" You whispered he placed his head on your back and nodded. Gently he put phone in your hand and dialed the police. He could see you break down as the operator spoke. Satisfied you would be alright he sat back and waited. When you hung up the phone Michael glanced down at you. You fidgeted as the struggling continued upstairs,

“Did they see you?” Michael shifted. You sighed,

“Sorry… Um… tap my shoulder once for yes two for no.” Michael tapped your shoulder twice. You nodded breathing silently and deeply,

“Okay… Okay…” You shuddered. Before clinging onto Michael suddenly. He could hear you holding back sobs,

“Thank you…” Michael was stiff as he pat your back. He could feel how scared you were, and yet, it seemed it was him who was calming you down. He would have laughed at the irony under better circumstances. 

It was then, Michael realized you were choosing to keep the blindfold on. Your arms were free. Always had been. As you pulled away, sitting on the other side of the closet, Michael hooked a finger onto the blindfold. You gasped,

“You- I’d see you… Are you really comfortable with that?” Michael paused. Was he? Would you be scared of him? The door upstairs finally clicked open. And the trio began to speak to one another. The sirens were close now. He wouldn’t have much time. It would only be a few more seconds till he either got caught protecting you or had to hide for a long time in a closet. And still, the question of what would you think, ran through is head.

Michael didn’t care. He slipped off the blindfold.

You were different from your picture. Eyes brighter, and seemingly so much more alive. Still the same hair and everything else he’d noticed from studying that small piece of paper. Here, he noted. You were pale, and bruised. With a black eye, and he felt a bump on your head. There was a small cut on your cheek. But he had a feeling, they’d kicked you too, since you were cradling your chest.

He also noticed your reaction to him. A small gasp. Whether it was the suddenness of his actions, or just him; he couldn’t tell. He stared back at you not daring to move. Time and sound stopped for as you stood up and cupped his face. A look of- christ he couldn’t tell. But your smile as you whispered awestruck because of him, 

“They’re wrong about you. Michael.” 

All at once time began again and the sounds of the strangers upstairs and the screaming sirens assaulted Michael’s ears. You had left the closet. Peeking through the sliding doors he watched as you held the bat ready. And when one of the strangers finally got down to where you were? 

“Fuck you.” With a single swing Michael heard something human crack, and saw the door fly open. The sheriff stood gun out. When you turned around, you took in a harsh breath before coughing up what Michael knew was blood. He fought back every urge he had to move. Helplessly watching you stumble towards the sheriff, 

“F-four, just four.” Paramedics rushed over to you and sat you down on the couch. The sheriff and a few other officers quickly took the four intruders away. Weakly questions were answered,

“What did they do to you? What happened?” 

“They pulled me out of bed, tripped me as I went downstairs and then they punched me, kicked me. I think they brought a knife out. I- I don’t remember much.” Michael felt his hands shake as he stayed motionless in the closet. He kept his breathing silent though. He couldn’t afford to be found. 

The paramedics looked you over. They touched your ribs making you wince. Tittering amongst themselves. Michael glared at them. He hated doctors. 

The sheriff came over and sat with you. He spoke about a timeline, and a few other things. Michael didn’t care to listen. His eyes stayed glued to you. Finally the paramedics came back,

“There’s been no punctures, it’s just blood from the nose. We should still bring them in.” The sheriff nodded helping you up. The paramedics left first. You looked back, to the closet specifically. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice,

“Hey, you’ll be back in no time. Do you need something?” You tore your eyes away from Michael,

“My keys. I think I left them on the counter.” The sheriff quickly passed by. And faster than Michael liked, you were gone. Police came and went looking through the living room. Mostly at the broken window and the upstairs. Even when the sun slowly began to rise, and all the police had left, Michael didn’t dare move. 

At some point he’d fallen asleep. When he woke, birds were tweeting and the usual noise of the neighbourhood greeted Michael. But the house felt empty without you in it. Michael curled up into a ball. When had he become so attached? Why did he miss you? 

Because you made him feel wanted. Like he was more than what everyone had made him. He couldn’t deny that your words still echoed in his head. And your face. You. He could still feel the phantom warmth of your arms around him. He could get addicted to the attention you showered him in,

“They’re wrong about you. Michael.” 

You knew who he was. That he wasn’t surprised about. But the sincerity of your voice. The way you were so gentle with him. How you didn’t shy away from his hulking form. How even after you knew who he was, you still dared to touch him. To smile at him. 

“They’re wrong about you. Michael.”

You had said his name. Without any fear. No hesitation. No one said his name like that. He could always hear hatred. Something dark and different behind his name. But you had said it with such wonder… 

He pulled out your picture from its place in his pocket. Slowly he opened the closet door, The house was empty. Some people tittered from outside but they moved on fast enough. Michael took his chance and slipped back to his room. Curled around the picture Michael sat motionless. Cold sun kept his room bright. He kept his mask off finding it hard to breathe with both the blanket and mask over his head. And he sat like that. Barely moving. 

After four days Michael was almost sure you wouldn’t come back. The house would go back to the black and grey husk it had been before. The paint would peel and the cold would bite through old dirty blankets-


	3. Afternoon dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is still awkward and confused... bless his heart.

He could hear the door. Michael surged to life again, grabbing his mask and slipping it on. Confused at who would enter this late in the evening. Standing by the door he waited. Gentle footsteps made their way through the house. He assumed they were in the kitchen, when suddenly, the footsteps quickly ascended the stairs. He tensed when they approached his door. Then, a knock,

“Michael?” He almost crumpled to the ground. It was you. He swung the door open blankly staring. Halfway between disbelief and joy. Your smile seemed to warm the air around him, 

“Michael! Thank god you’re okay…” You hugged him tightly. He pat your back gently, not knowing how hurt you were still. There was a silent moment where you simply looked at him in wonder. Michael couldn’t tell why you were staring. You were silent, still hugging him, still smiling. He fidgeted in your arms. While your staring didn’t faze him, something about it made him feel shy. Fidgeting more, you let go giggling as you did,

“Sorry. It’s just… It’s nice to see you.” Michael stood motionless. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. This was the first time someone had actually wanted to see him. For no reason other than… well, to see him. You waved for him to follow you. Hesitantly he let you lead him downstairs. He was mostly positive you wouldn’t betray him, but… He’d been wrong before about other things.

Downstairs, he stuck to the shadows. Preferring to be out of sight to any wandering eyes, or worried neighbours. But you played it off, not even showing a hint of bother. Continuing to hum and shuffle through bags. Michael slowly looked around the house. It seemed to live around your presence. And when you laughed happily turning around, Michael watched the house breathe. He could hear laughter. A sound that didn’t come from you and not from him, not exactly. But it was a sound he was sure he couldn’t make anymore. It was his laughter… and for a moment heard he heard his mother. Though he’d forgotten her face a long time ago. 

Brought back to reality he looked down at you. You held out a box of cookies,

“Uh- I didn’t know what to get to thank you… Do you like cookies?” Michael paused, smiling absently under his mask. He nodded gingerly taking the box. Sugar cookies… He couldn’t find anything wrong with a name like that. He’d enjoy these later. You smiled turning around talking about anything, and starting to cook. Michael listened quietly. Intently he watched your body shrink inwards as you shifted to talking about the hospital, 

“So, I can’t do any heavy lifting. Bruised ribs and all. Sucks you couldn’t come visit. But I did get visitors-” Michael tensed as you dropped the spoon you’d been holding. Your hands gripped at the counter knuckles white. Michael took a single step forward when you turned around suddenly. His arm slowly reached out to you. Tears were in your eyes as you smiled,

“I didn’t really need any visitors.” He huffed. Why were you trying to play off what you were feeling? You pushed his hand away picking up the spoon and trading it for a new one,

“Were you around when the sheriff replaced the window? Probably not… he would’ve found you in that case.” Michael looked at the window. Sure enough it was unbroken. Michael sighed, he really needed to stop being so careless. He grunted turning to go back and grab his notepad. But before he could even leave the kitchen you latched onto his hand,

“Please!” He reflexively ripped his hand out of your grip. He turned confused and startled. You were breathing heavily tears threatening to streak down your cheeks,

“Don’t leave me alone…” Michael sighed. He didn’t know that you’d been this scared… Unless… They’d done something else. He mimed writing down something. You sniffed shaking,

“Please be quick.” He pat your head sympathetically. Where else would he go? It was too cold and snowy. Retrieving his notepad and pencil, he wrote down his question,

Who visited you?

You paused before looking away,

“Guess.” He growled absently. The second the snow was gone. He would visit those idiots. He couldn't stand seeing you so upset. He racked his brain before writing something else,

What are you making?

This, much to Michael's pleasure seemed to cheer you up,

"Chicken Alfredo. It's noodles sauce and chicken. Want some?" Michael nodded. He knew he'd fed himself during your absence but he couldn't remember what he'd gotten. Grapes maybe? You smiled continuing to cook. A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen. Michael liked silence. 

When was the last time he'd had silence? He racked his brain. Finding he had to ask the question, when was the last time he'd had noise? Ever since you'd begun to speak with him he realized the voices had been deathly quiet. Small whispers assaulted him occasionally. But when you would speak, or hum, or smile, or laugh… it was a comfortable silence. 

When you finally placed a plate in front of Michael the sky was dark. It couldn't have been six yet. He sat down just as you did and stared at the meal. It certainly did smell good. But he didn't exactly feel like slipping his mask halfway up yet. He wasn't that comfortable. You had already started eating. Michael began to write,

I'll eat later. Thank you.

You nodded, finishing what was in your mouth,

"Of course. Sorry I-" he grunted. Scribbling,

Don't apologize. 

You blinked before nodding,

"O… kay. I hope you like it later." He grunted again sitting back in the chair satisfied. You couldn't be so nice. Michael would toughen you up a bit.

Do you need help fixing the house?

You giggled,

"Well, I think you could only help fix the inside. Unless you're looking to get locked up again." 

You want me to stay?

He didn't think before he wrote the words. You were blushed in pink,

"Well… I- um… the company is nice, that's all. I mean I don't get out much." Michael gave an amused huff. As you kept eating. He smiled. God, he'd been doing that a lot more often now, but he found, he didn't mind.

After dinner you left Michael in the kitchen. He ate in silence, enjoying actual food. When he was done he wiped his mouth, fixed his mask over his face, and headed into the living room. 

He found you huddled by the window with the television on. You sighed looking out into the night, whatever you had begun to watch, lay abandoned. 

Turning off the TV Michael dragged your attention to him. He scribbled down another message,

What are you looking for?

You shakily glanced back,

"Them…" Michael stiffened,

What did they say to you?

You placed your head on his chest sniffling,

"They- they said they would come back. And they wouldn't just beat me next time…" Michael was tense. Slowly without thinking he let his arms slide around you. He couldn’t describe the anger he felt. It wasn’t the mindless rage, and impulse he felt normally. This was a defensive rage. He was mad because you were upset. 

Protection? Did he want to protect you? It made sense. You had taken care of him and hidden him even though you knew what he was. It was just so new. The last time he wanted to protect, to defend something… He couldn’t even remember. Had he ever felt like this? 

He slowly peeled you off him. You looked so small, so scared. Picking you up effortlessly he carried you to your bedroom. He placed you on your bed, stood with his face to door and grunted. 

He would stand watch all night. Just for you. He didn’t need to sleep. He’d been almost fully catatonic for four days. One day without sleep would be fine. He heard you sniffle from behind him,

“Michael…” He glanced back to see you standing up. A solemn smile gracing your features,

“Michael you don’t have to stand there.” He turned and walked back towards you. You barely reached his chest, he rumbled picking you up again to lie you down. But you grabbed his neck as he bent down. Startled he lost his balance and toppled into the bed. You laughed as he stiffly adjusted to lie next to you,

“This’ll do just fine. You don’t mind right?” He paused, before shaking his head. No, he didn’t mind. This was almost nice. You yawned turning to face away from him. 

He listened as your breathing deepened, alerting him to sleep’s clutch over you. For a while he simply sat there. Content to listen. Until he slowly felt his body go limp. With a quiet rumble he fell into the void behind his eyes.

With most of the morning necessities done, Michael noticed a second brush on the counter. He glanced at the closed door. One of his hands tightly closed around the handle. Slowly he took off the mask. He wasn’t very vain. Caring mainly about staying clean and not getting sick. But it was jarring to look into a mirror without the mask. He couldn’t see anything different. His eyes still held the same colour, and he wasn’t pale with sickness. Michael poked at his face, absently scratching at the stubble on his chin. His finger traced the scar that went over his eye. He could argue that his hair was messy. Though he didn’t remember what it looked it when it was nice.   
Raking the brush over his scalp he twitched every time there was an especially bad knot. He counted himself lucky that his brown curls weren’t longer. 

With the mask back on his face Michael silently crept downstairs. You were busy cooking in the kitchen again. Michael assumed that everything was going to be normal again. You were already doing a lot better, as you had walked away from him and left yourself alone at least a few times today. Sitting down at the table notepad in hand he merely watched you for a while. Not with his transfixed predator stare, mind you. More like a lazy curiosity. Though he didn't really know if he could change his stare. He just hoped.


	4. Night fright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines! 
> 
> Michael remembers a holiday... But his past still haunts his mind.

He was only drawn out of his motionlessness by you placing a plate in front of him. He stared at it before staring at you. You chuckled,

"This is much better than hospital food. Wouldn't you agree?" Michael nodded, a smile tugging at his lips from behind the mask,

Much better.

He scribbled as you ate. 

Do you have work today? 

You smiled weakly,

“No. My boss gave me the week off.” Michael liked that. He liked spending time with you. 

After breakfast you pulled out some boxes that had been shoved into the corner of the living room. Michael tilted his head, what were those? Slowly you began pulling out pieces of a tree. 

Michael nearly started bouncing. That was a Christmas tree.

He shuffled closer spying the bright ornaments and lights deeper within. You laughed struggling with the base,

“Would you like to help Michael?” He nodded picking up the stand and placing it in the corner. 

That was how he spent the greater part of the day. Gently grabbing brightly coloured baubles, orbs, and whatever else was in the boxes. Even a few very old, homemade ornaments. You would laugh putting ornaments up to your ears. He got wrapped up in the lights at one point, but you hadn’t noticed so you’d plugged them in. Well, suffice to say he was happy to see you laugh that hard. Besides, it was a little funny. 

Now it was the evening and the tree twinkled gently with Michael frozen on the ground in front of it. Halloween was his favourite holiday by far. But he couldn’t lie that Christmas was one of the most beautiful. You were in the kitchen making dinner. And Michael did want to help, but it had been so long since he’d seen a Christmas tree. 

Smith’s grove had one. But it was small and sad. Not a single nice ornament decorated it and the lights were all burnt out. Michael couldn’t even see the thing. And the “carollers” patients was more like it, were never in tune.

But here, it was bright, with the radio spouting Christmas songs Michael had long forgotten the words to. This was a nice look into what his childhood could've been.

When you came back into the living room Michael still hadn't moved,

"Michael," you tapped his shoulder drawing his attention, "dinner's ready. Did you want to eat here or the kitchen?"

He pointed to the kitchen before slowly getting up with a groan. He stretched out his back and trudged out of the living room. With you following behind him. As he sat at the table he was happy to see something that looked like food on his plate. You sat across from him and began eating. Michael took the opportunity to stare. 

You were focused on eating and thinking about something. Your soft hair gracefully fell from behind your ear and Michael went rigid. He'd almost instinctively reached out to fix your hair. Thank god he had the mask on. Or the steady flush of pink on his cheeks would be visible.

How did you do it? How was it you could make his chest tight with anticipation, or make him feel light and relaxed? How did you make his world just a bit brighter? Michael huffed to himself. You made his heart beat in his chest, and made his stomach knot itself. You made him want to do stupid things like hug you, or fix your hair. 

Was it magic? He didn't think so. Magic wasn’t exactly real. Then... Some new psychology trick? Well if kindness was a trick than he really didn't find out. What was it?? He looked at you again at examined you. He hummed, slowly forgetting what he was supposed to be looking for. 

Instead his thoughts slowly shifted to admiring you. Not only did you have a beautiful kindness. But Michael had to admit. Out of the limited exposure to people he'd had. You were the most beautiful. You looked up at him. 

Michael startled and his elbow slid out from under his head. He managed to catch himself, but his face burned below the mask. You gasped with a smile,

“Sorry Michael, I just wanted to ask if you were interested in a Christmas present?” He immediately perked up and nodded. The last time he’d gotten a present it was when he was eight. A nurse had gotten him a plush. 

It was a small green alligator made with a soft towel like fabric. Filled with beads, and a red ribbon tied into a bow around its neck. Michael remembered the nurse opening his door and coming in. She smiled crouching down and holding the blue wrapped box. Loomis had already gotten right to work demonizing Michael. So he was wary. 

But she quietly smiled and slid the present forward giving him some space. He snatched up the present and methodically undid the wrapping preferring to not loudly rip into the paper. She sat quietly. Not watching him but the box itself. Michael remembered slowly opening it and feeling a smile. The little plush sat waiting for him. When he looked back at the nurse he opened his mouth to say thank you. But the words wouldn’t come. So he merely hugged the toy tightly. She smiled grabbing the box and the paper. Michael turned to write her a message, but when he looked again, she was gone. 

He never saw her again. And Loomis had taken the toy only a week later. But… Michael wouldn’t forget one of the only pieces of kindness he was offered.

Michael nodded. Quickly finding a pencil and scrap paper. He drew the alligator as best as he could remember. He quickly handed it to you. There was a pause as you deciphered the messily written notes. But you quickly smiled,

“I think I could find something.” he felt his stomach flutter and a big smile spread across his face. As you finished eating you left with the drawing in silence. As Michael began to eat he found himself drawn into his thoughts. You needed a present too. But what could he possibly get you? And where would he get anything?? As he finished and slipped his mask back on Michael peeked into the living room. He could see you checking the window again. He wished he could give you peace of mind. 

Knocking gently on the wall to announce his presence, you turned around. There was a guilty look in your eyes. Michael sighed pointing to the TV and the stairs. Then to you. He could see you slowly translate his question. You pointed towards the stairs in response and began walking towards them. As you passed by Michael you took his hand. 

His heart swelled. Your hand was so small in his. You quietly led him to your room. Before flopping onto the bed and patting the space beside you. Michael paused… but lied down. Your back faced him and he could only stare. 

Was his presence calming to you? Was that why you didn’t mind having him next to you? Did this make you feel safer? God you were so confusing. He could never pin you down. He waited for your breathing to deepen before he shifted onto his back. His body was heavy, and he breathed deeply. He was so tired. 

Never before did he feel as tired as he felt around you. But it wasn’t a bad thing. He liked being tired. It meant he was comfortable. Being tired around you meant it was time to relax. To let the tension in his muscles go. To let his head empty. To stretch his back out and slip peacefully into vulnerable sleep. Even for a light sleeper like him, it was nice. 

Bright lights hovered over Michael. They seared his eyes. Panic flooded over him, where was he? Two seconds ago he was falling asleep in warm sheets. The familiar latex mask wasn’t on his face either. Michael tried to move but found he couldn’t. Straps held him down. He growled straining against his restraints. There was a laugh from outside his sight and Michael froze. He knew that laugh. 

Loomis moved into view. Michael seethed seeing him smile,

“Hello Michael. How are you today?” Loomis looked for any sign of speech or movement. Michael glared and Loomis shrugged,

“Oh it’s not like it matters. Now Michael do you see the camera’s, make sure to give us a show. If you perform well we’ll finally be able to get rid of you,” Michael felt his anxiety skyrocket. He hated it, being watched, “and if you don’t? Well, I doubt anyone would care if we just left you in your cell, and forgot about you.” 

He seized up against the leather straps. One snapped and Michael felt a euphoric satisfaction watching Loomis’ face flash with fear. Faceless nurses crowded over him. Ice cold hands undid the straps and ran away from him. Loomis stood tall, arrogant.

Michael growled charging at Loomis. The man gasped before collapsing from Michael’s full weight on him. Michael squeezed his neck. But there was no fear on Loomis’ face. In fact he wasn’t even bothered by having his life squeezed out of him. Michael let go and stumbled back. Loomis was suddenly behind Michael,

“Foolish boy.” Someone grabbed his arms. He whipped around and gasped falling onto the ground. It was Judith. Half decayed and bleeding. She gurgled out noises as Loomis pointed a gun at Michael. They towered out him and the camera’s he knew they were watching. He could hear sirens and his mother’s screaming, his father’s yelling. 

They were watching him. They always were. They were mad at him. What had he done wrong? Kill her Michael. Why? What did that mean? You’re a monster. Evil. Demon. I love you Michael. 

I love you too Mama. I can’t talk. 

Speak for us Michael. 

I can’t. 

Speak for us Michael! Speak! Speak!

He curled into a ball confused and scared. How old was he? Where was he? Where were you?

Something plopped into his lap. Michael slowly peeked through his hands. It was the alligator. His alligator,

“Go on. It’s just for you. Merry Christmas Michael.” it was the nurse. He clutched the small plush in his large trembling hands. He slowly looked up but no one was there. He hiccuped. As the tormentors loomed over him still. He was cold. 

A voice snapped through the yelling. It called his name. Arms wrapped around his neck and he gasped. It was warm.

He shot up and his eyes opened. Michael breathed harsh, and shallow. He was drenched in sweat. The room was dark. You were hugging him. Shivering Michael curled around you. His mind was a whirlwind of noise. Quietly you pet his head and shushed him. 

The mask was suffocating him. He quickly ripped himself away and hid in his room. Back pressed against the door Michael tossed the mask across the room and gasped for air. He could barely breathe. Your footsteps followed him. They stopped at the door. He could hear your muffled voice, 

"Michael, it's okay. Just breathe. You're at home." You were calm and gentle. Michael wheezed trying to force everything away. He had to tell himself that you were okay. He could trust you. Trying to force himself to calm down he slowly he crawled over to his mask. He slipped it on however suffocating it was. He wheezed and shivered at the door. He could trust you. You would help. Michael repeated that in his head. 

He could trust you. You would help.

The reaching for the door handle proved too much for Michael. He had opened the door but he also collapsed to the ground. Oxygen deprived and dizzy. It was as if someone had punched him in the stomach. You rushed in and cradled him. He could barely hear your worried titters. But he did feel your hand grab his. Your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. Michael hiccuped as his ears cleared,

"Come on Michael, deep breaths. It was just a nightmare you're still here. You're safe." Michael lay there wheezing. Usually he would be left to suffer. Either to get over the nightmare or pass out from a lack of air. But here you were holding him, helping him. Finally he breathed in. Deep and full. Your hand squeezed his in silent encouragement as he continued to breathe,

"Good, that's good. In and out Michael. It's okay now." He slid the mask off halfway, not caring for the moment that you could see a part of his face. He needed the air. 

After an hour, Michael was breathing again. His mask was on normally. You were just sitting on the ground with his head in your lap. Looking down with relief and receding panic. Michael hadn't let your hand go, preferring the gentle contact to twiddling his fingers. Slowly with his free hand he reached up to your face. He cupped your cheek. Why were you so intent on helping him, being nice to him, and making him feel wanted? 

You leaned into his touch,

"Would you like something to drink? Water maybe?" He nodded. Only now noticing how dry his mouth was. As you moved to get up Michael slipped his hand out of yours. 

He opened and closed his hand feeling the cold seep back within. He just wanted to go to sleep while the occasional shiver rocked him.

When you returned, Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up and grumbled. You sighed, putting the glass on the bedside table. Michael who was tired, and still shaken from his nightmare, opened his arms. Slowly you approached him, not slow out of fear but of curiosity. He sighed closing his arms around your waist and pulling you onto the bed. There he lied, with his head on your chest. Slowly your own arms curled around him and drew him closer. He hummed listening to your heartbeat. That would be his tether. As long as your heart was beating, Michael would know he was alive, that he was awake.


	5. Predator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were sound asleep. Peacefully dreaming, and blissfully unaware of the predator standing at the edge of your bed.
> 
> He breathed.

2 weeks had passed since that night and Michael found that he was beginning to truly trust you. No longer did thoughts of betrayal run through his head. It was nice.

You were back to leaving him alone during the day. He grumbled pacing the house. Christmas was around the corner and you deserved a present. He absolutely refused to do anything close to a craft. Too many days had he been dropped into a room to be left to make some inane object Loomis would end up taking. Maybe he actually wanted to wear his paper mache mask! Or maybe, Loomis, that, sock puppet you called ugly, had a lot of effort put into it! He enjoyed drawing though, on the off chance they’d let him anywhere near a pencil. Painting on a canvas was also enjoyable. Michael thought to himself. You had nice paper and pencils. He had a plan.

When he heard you come home he scrambled to hide the clipboard with paper attached. Shoving it as far under his bed as it could go he grabbed his notepad and left his room. Michael ran his hand through his curls; Then froze. Quickly he ran back into his room and slipped on his mask. Leaving his room once more Michael sighed in relief that you hadn’t seen him.

Heading downstairs you smiled over your shoulder, and Michael felt a pang of adoration flow through his veins. He waved seeing you point to his box of cookies,

“Michael do you not like cookies? It’s ok if you don’t-” Michael gasped, he’d forgotten about those. He didn’t even listen as he opened the box and shoved cookies under the neck of his mask to his mouth. God were these good. He took more cookies. Shoving as many as he possibly could into his mouth. Your laughing made him look up and when he did? You were leaning on the counter clutching your stomach in glee,

“You’d think I don’t feed you! Slow down!” Michael grunted finishing what was in his mouth. He wanted more but somehow you’d already grabbed the box,

“You can gorge all you want after dinner. Now, isn’t your mask full of crumbs now?” Michael pulled the latex forwards. The neck stretched and when he shook the mask? More than a hand-full of crumbs fell out. He cringed shaking out more, then walking to get the broom.

As he finished eating dinner he looked to the living room and for once, found you weren’t there. It was a small comfort for him. To see that the teenagers weren’t the last thing on your mind before you slept tonight. Silently creeping up the stairs he peeked into your room. Where you lay fast asleep. Curled into your blankets. You looked comfortable. Warm, too. Michael hummed before turning to go into his own room. 

In the last two weeks he had slept in his own bed. The first two nights after his nightmare he’d refused to be anywhere near you. Until Michael finally apologized with a note after seeing how sad you were. Then there were the last few nights when you’d asked him if you could try sleeping on your own. To which he agreed, outwardly with little regard. But inwardly with some pouting. So life was normal, but then there had been the night…

Only a few days ago, Michael had caught you glancing out the window again. You chuckled shrugging. But Michael was having none of it. Picking you up as if a featherweight to him he marched you to bed. You’d asked him once again to join you and he did. Finding it just as normal as the rest of his life. But something was different. You didn’t turn around. Now Michael was fine if you wouldn’t turn around. Everyone had a side they liked to sleep on more. But it was what Michael woke up to next that truly startled him. 

He was a light sleeper. A pin drop could wake him. So when he felt your weight absently shift on the bed he couldn’t help but wake. One of his eyes peeled open to check on you. There, he found you snuggled into his chest. With your ever familiar warmth and arms safely tucked in front of you. Michael felt a blush covering his cheeks. This- This was- different… and he didn’t mind... Stranger still was when he found one of his arms was draped across your waist. It was such a comforting pose. A sleepy dance, Michael thought. It felt natural and you were so perfectly cuddled into the natural curves near his chest and neck. It felt like torture to turn away from you. But turn away he did. 

Sat on his bed he pulled out your present. It wasn’t too close to being done but it was getting there. He was actually quite happy with how it was turning out as well. Nothing seemed out of place and with your picture as his guide he was never worried about forgetting what you looked like. Still he couldn't help but be drawn back to you curled into his chest. 

Sliding the clipboard back into its hiding spot. Michael sank into his blankets. He grumbled with content as his eyes drifted to a close. 

The rest of December passed by in a flash. The small portrait of you was nearly complete needing only finishing touches and for Michael to finish shading the flowers he’d added as decoration. Christmas was only a few more sleeps away. 

Slipping out of his room he glanced at the door to Judith’s room. He hadn’t gone in there since he’d blown out the candle on the vigil. Not that he wanted to. But he could see the gentle moonlight from under the door. Slowly he moved on. The house was radically different this late at night; And with the work you were doing, beautiful. No longer was it Michael’s personal monument to the night his childhood died. Instead you were making it his sanctuary, a place for him to be himself and not the stalker people knew him for. He felt light around you, and it still confused him. He assumed it always would. Surely there wasn’t a word for what he was feeling. 

Creeping downstairs the Christmas tree sat in the corner. You turned it off at night to save power... and not burn the house down. But the gentle light from outside still reflected off of the shiny balls and baubles. He could hear the bells on the wreath you’d hung on the front door jingle in the wind. Peace. Was this peace? He’d always thought peace meant silence. Numbness. Maybe this was something different? God he hated feelings. Why did they need names? Why couldn’t people just feel and exist. No order, just pure unrestricted emotion. He glanced out of the window, pulling the curtains aside.

Someone was alone out there. Vulnerable. Cold, most likely. Stiff. There was a switch in Michael’s head. Something clawed at his skull, still just as fresh as it had been all those years ago. The urge to step outside and follow the stranger ate at Michael’s patience. Tearing himself away from the window he mechanically ascended the stairs. The bells weren’t jingling. It was dark. The stairs did not creak. His hands were empty but he clenched them as if they weren’t. He silently slipped into your room. You were sound asleep. Peacefully dreaming, and blissfully unaware of the predator standing at the edge of your bed.

Michael breathed heavily. His mind screeched.

Kill them. Kill them. Wring their neck. Watch them struggle. Let their life drain away in their eyes.

But Michael didn’t move. Why would he do that? He couldn’t do that. There was a stabbing pain in his head that chastised him. But still he didn’t move. He stared at you with not only with bloodlust but with pleading whines. He silently begged that you would wake up and see him in agony. That you would call out his name and hold him, and wake him from his living nightmare. He did not want to hurt you. Yet here he was fighting with himself terrified he would lose.

Michael do it. Do it Michael. End them. 

He shook his head and held his shoulders. The tension in his hands turned his knuckles white as he looked at you. Slowly his feet drew him closer to you until he towered over your sleeping form. His arm rigidly reached out to you. He could feel his heart race and bloom with sick delight. It was silent; He couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing to his ears. He closed his eyes willing himself to stop moving. You were safe. He wasn’t allowed to hurt you. Please don’t let him hurt you.

Please… 

“Michael…?” He gasped opening his eyes. He nearly collapsed seeing that he was merely touching your hair. He shrank under your gaze. How could he explain this? Suddenly there was a crash from the backyard. You smiled,

“Did that startle you? I guess you can’t exactly go and check it out.” Michael was frozen, your soft hair tangled in his fingers. You sighed patting his hand and stretching. The oversized shirt and pants you were wearing stretched with you and Michael could note exactly how the fabric’s fit you. 

Slowly you trudged out of your room to presumably go and check out what had crashed. But Michael stood frozen. It wasn’t until you had left the room completely did he collapse onto his knees. His hands shook. Quickly he retreated back to his room and locked the door. He was terrified of everything, himself, you… How could he have done that... Thought like that? It made him feel sick. 

The next day Michael didn’t leave his room. He slid a note under the door when you asked, that explained he was feeling ill. You seemed to understand. Leaving him alone. He heard you place a plate near the door but he couldn’t bear to open it. He merely lay on his bed shivering. When it was night again Michael tried to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, gory sights assaulted him. When the morning came again Michael was exhausted, hungry, and miserable. He pulled out your Christmas present and stared sadly at it. Had he gotten too comfortable with you? 

He sadly continued to shade the flowers. Maybe tomorrow on Christmas day he’d give you your present and then leave in the night… There was a knock at the door, he whined hiding the present. As you knocked again, Michael slumped off the bed, grabbing his notepad as he went, and trudged to the door. Pressing his back against it, audibly. He expected to hear you sigh and walk away. But instead he heard you sit down,

“What’s wrong Michael… You haven’t left your room in a day. Aren’t you hungry? You haven’t eaten anything.” 

I ate something during the night. 

He heard an indignant huff,

“I stayed up last night. I know you didn’t eat. I know you didn’t leave either.” He grunted. Scribbling on the pad he hoped it would get you to leave,

I’m fine. 

“Prove it. Open the door.” He froze. He couldn’t do that. What if he hurt you? Michael slipped another note under the door,

I can’t…

You sighed,

“Is this because you were in my room?” He felt a shiver go down his spine. You knew? Why hadn’t you said anything? 

“Michael it’s ok. You didn’t hurt me. I wasn’t scared.” He whined,

How do you know?

“I was having trouble sleeping again. And then you came in and I didn’t want to startle you.” MIchael couldn’t understand. Truly he could not understand why you could. He unlocked the door and cracked it open. Shyly, he stuck out his hand. You made some sort of noise. He couldn’t tell what you were feeling. But when he felt your fingers lace with his, he didn’t care. Slowly he held your hand in return, and peeked out. You were there, smiling,

“You wouldn’t hurt me Michael. I know you wouldn’t. I trust you.” He squeezed your hand gently, almost as if to say,

But what if? 

With a smile you scooted closer until your other hand was placed on his cheek. Underneath the mask his eyes closed imagining what it would feel like if your hand was really there. So sweetly, you whispered to him, 

“You just have to trust yourself.” Michael sighed. He would try. If only for you he would try. 

You tugged on his sleeve gently,

“Come downstairs lets watch a movie and celebrate. It’s Christmas eve!” Michael grumbled standing up. Stomach following in kind. There was a blush below the mask. You laughed tapping his stomach,

“And some food for you.” 

It was nice being in your presence again. Here sitting on the couch an old animated movie cheerfully singing songs. With a full stomach, he happily bopped along to songs he hadn’t heard properly in decades. It was about halfway through when Michael felt something hit his shoulder. You were only half conscious. With your eyes nearly closed, but every so often they’d open again at certain sounds. He smiled under the mask, gently shifting you so your head was in his lap. One hand rested on your shoulder while the other positioned on the armrest held up his head. As the credits rolled Michael found sleep beginning to claim him as well.

He gently shook you, not trusting his own ability to carry you to your room and not collapse on the bed with you. You yawned reaching around his waist and sighing,

“Mmm… What?” Michael felt a blush covering his cheeks. He poked you again. You grumbled,

“Did I fall asleep?” Michael huffed, almost laughing. Slowly you sat up and rubbed the back of your neck,

“Sorry… Thanks for waking me, though. Now we can leave cookies for Santa.” Michael felt his chest tighten,

Santa? Loomis had said something about Santa not being real… But who listened to that old fart anyways? Michael was sure devil eyes was not a real condition. Plus, his eyes were brown, not black. You smiled as Michael stood up and stretched, he was tired, sure. But he was curious. Was Santa real? You hummed under your breath as you pulled out a fancy plate Michael hadn’t seen before and placed cookies on top. Over your shoulder you spoke to Michael, handing him a Christmas themed mug,

“Fill this with milk Michael, would you?” He grunted grabbing the mug and heading to the fridge. 

When he was done you were already walking back into the living room. With the plate on the table you motioned for Michael to follow. He did and tilted his head. You sighed,

“No Christmas traditions at the asylum?” Michael rolled his eyes as he shook his head. He could remember doing this once though. A long time ago. He yawned and tiredly walked upstairs. As he reached the top and turned to his room, you grabbed his hand,

“See you tomorrow morning?” Michael hummed, before continuing on. 

Face-planting into his bed he quickly fell asleep. He woke only once during the night to heavy boots and a very, very familiar laugh. Michael felt his heart race as smiled listening to quiet jingle bells. As much as he wanted to see Santa, the man had other houses to go to. So Michael was content to fall asleep again.


	6. Happy Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For his first real Christmas in years, you’d sure made it hard to top.
> 
> A certain someone feels like a kid again

In the morning Michael stretched letting his back and arms crack as needed. It took a few seconds of him blankly sitting there, his mind waking up slower than his body until he realized there were presents downstairs. Immediately he was up and grabbing his present to you. Wrapped (albeit shoddily) and ready to be given to you. He raced downstairs to see bites taken out of the cookies and no milk left in the mug. But you were not downstairs. 

Michael quickly made his way back to your door. But he paused once he reached it, preferring to knock politely. When the only response was a tired,

“Five more minutes.” Michael invited himself in. He crouched down in front of you and poked your forehead over, and over, and over. You whined your eyes cracking open,

“G’ mornin’ Michael…” He grunted pointing to the door. You tiredly chuckled reaching out to pat his cheek, or at least that of the mask’s,

“Okay… I’ll be downstairs in five minutes.” Michael raised an eyebrow and didn’t move. You groaned,

“I promise I won’t fall back asleep!” Satisfied, Michael nodded and trotted back downstairs. Happy as a clam.

When you finally came downstairs Michael was quietly sitting on the couch. You smiled seeing him bop up and down excitedly. He watched you stare for a moment, before you tilted your head,

“Go on, choose a present.” Michael paused and pointed to himself? He had presents under the tree? You held back a laugh,

“Go look for a present to open.” Michael bounced as he stared at all the boxes and the colourful wrapping. Spying his name he picked up a silver wrapped box. You sat on the ground beside the tree and watched as Michael methodically undid the paper, preferring not to loudly tear anything. The next layer was a gift box and within that was a pair of black pants and a blue sweatshirt. He smiled to himself, normal clothes that were his. Clothes that fit. No more constant t-shirt and jumpsuit, or hoodie sweatpants duos anymore. There was a little more freedom in his clothing choices now. You chuckled,

“I hope the colour is okay. I never actually asked you what your favourite colour was.” Michael pointed to the shirt and nodded. He liked blue just fine. You chuckled picking out a purple present for yourself. Tearing open the paper you reached into the box and pulled out the ugliest sweater Michael had ever seen. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a Christmas sweater designed to be ugly either. It was just, ugly. You grimaced throwing it to the side,

“Thanks Auntie…” you muttered. Michael held down a laugh as he kept searching.

By the time there were only two presents left Michael had gotten socks, pants, two more shirts, and other essentials; A warm navy blue jacket, touque, and gloves. Not to mention the sketchbook and pencils and sign language book. He was excited to start reading that.

You however, hadn’t been so lucky. Getting gift cards, cash, and socks, but you didn’t seem too upset. He eyed the bright blue wrapped box you held in your hands, while you copied him staring at the badly wrapped striped present he held. He was melting inside the mask. Suddenly very nervous to give you your present. Would you think it’s creepy? He’d never seen you draw but what if you were way better and you picked it apart in front of him? You pulled him outside of his head by sitting beside him,

“This is from me Michael. Merry Christmas.” He felt his heart race as he exchanged the present. You gasped,

“For me? Thank you Michael.” He nodded as he began unwrapping. Once again there was a box but before he could open it he heard you gasp. He snapped his head up to look at you. You were holding his picture in awe. Frozen. Slowly you looked up and smiled wide,

“Thank you Michael! I think you’re the only person to actually get me something this year.” He shrugged it off as he felt his face blush deeply. Why were you so cute? You smiled holding the drawing close as you pointed to his present, 

“Now I’m really excited to see your reaction to what I got you! Open it!” Michael slowly opened the box and gasped himself. There is the box staring back at him was a small green alligator. A blue ribbon instead of a red one, but… It was his alligator. Or at least another alligator from the same company. He was almost too gentle when he picked it up. You giggled unaware of how wide he was smiling to himself. The beads within shifted, making a satisfyingly gentle, shh. Michael held the plush close to his chest. For his first real Christmas in years, you’d sure made it hard to top. You stared at the picture before tracing a part of it with your hand,

“Let’s go put our gifts in our rooms and then I’ll clean up the paper, and we can start breakfast?” Michael nodded going to his pile and scooping up everything into his arms. Though not before placing his plushie on his shoulder to free up his hands. 

While in his room Michael eyed his new clothes. He huffed proudly grabbing the black pants and his sweatshirt. Michael kept the alligator with him as he slipped into the bathroom and took off the mask. His hair fell around his face, it had gotten longer in the last month or so. Now his hair fell in front of his eyes. He ran his hand through the deep brown curly locks, the stubble from a month ago was definitely getting out of hand, not to mention his hair was due for a wash… Thankfully an extra towel had been left in the bathroom. With a sigh he undressed and turned on the water.

The water hit Michael’s head as he stood there. He hummed to himself looking at the soap you had. It appeared you’d gotten him soap but when he opened and smelled it… He stuck out his tongue. Whatever it was supposed to smell like, he did not care for it. Instead Michael grabbed your soap with its gentler flowery scents. He scrubbed his head and enjoyed the fact that he could take his time. Smiths Grove showers… His showers were rushed and usually cold. Enough to keep him clean. Finishing with his hair, he noticed you’d gotten him his own body wash too. This one he didn’t mind the smell so he decided to use it.

Fresh and clean out of the shower, he wrapped the towel around his waist and looked to the counter at a bag. It had been there when he’d come in and looking closer he discovered it had his name on it. Within it held all the essentials for shaving. He huffed, truly you thought of everything when it came to him. Honestly, he was almost embarrassed by how much you spoiled him.

Finally done with his face Michael shook any extra water from his hair and made sure he was dry before changing back into his new clothes. Happy with his appearance Michael slipped on the mask and peeked out of the door. He could hear you downstairs humming. The smell of breakfast wafting through the air. Happy he made sure his alligator was snug of his shoulder again as he made his way downstairs. Silently walking until he was behind you. Michael tapped your shoulder and watched you jump. He smiled under the mask as you turned around,

“Hi Michael… You’re wearing your new clothes! Do they fit okay?” Your eyes had lit up when you’d seen him. Now here you were tittering around him. He rumbled out a laugh as you smiled,

“I’m glad you like your alligator. Now sit down, breakfast is almost ready.” After breakfast, you smiled getting up,

“Before you get too deep into sign language or drawing I something to show you. It’s a… present I guess? Just, come on!” Michael quietly followed as you led him upstairs. Then, all the way to Judith’s room. He paused before the door. But you opened it and walked inside like there wasn’t anything in there. Poking out your head you waved him in, but Michael didn’t move. There was no good in mourning for a sister he didn’t remember, but- Everything had begun in that room. You walked up to him,

“Hey… Don’t worry, it’s not a bedroom. Just come see.” He felt his face heat up when you took his hands and slowly guide him into the room. But when he finally did cross that invisible barrier he was amazed. The room had been transformed. There were desks, and drawers, an easel, it was an art room. You squeezed his hand gently,

“Do you like it? I thought it would be nice to have a place for me to work on my hobbies. But that desk there, is for you. We can share supplies. If you’d like…” Michael loved it. He nodded squeezing back. Then he decided to let go and hug you in his own way of saying,

Thank you. 

The rest of the day Michael spent his nose in the book, feet dangling off the couch. You were trapped under his legs, though he assumed you didn’t mind as you were absorbed in whatever you were drawing. It was nice, lounging around like this. No one watching him just for the hell of it. Nobody whispering for his death, or whatever other horrible things they thought he couldn’t hear. This was peace. He looked up at the fireplace and nearly fell off the couch. The stockings were full! You startled too,

“What! What’s wrong!?” Michael pointed at the stockings. You gasped,

“We forgot the stockings!” Michael very quickly got up and spied his name on a tag coming out of a stocking. He quickly grabbed it and handed you, yours. Reaching in Michael was delighted. Chocolate after chocolate was stuffed into the sock. Even better were the sweets at the bottom. Cookies, lollipops, and peeps. He rumbled happily hoarding his spoils. You chuckled looking up at him as you held a few chocolates of your own and a package of markers,

“Don’t eat all of those at once Michael. Please.” he shrugged as if to say,

No promises. 

You only sighed getting up to take your other gifts to your room. Michael set aside a few chocolates before doing the same. 

The days went by, and before long it was New Years eve. You sighed flopping onto the couch. Michael who’d found a cozy place under the coffee table while reading glanced up at you. You were mumbling something about parties as Michael tapped your shoulder. You jumped,

“JesuS Christ! Michael… Hi.” He frowned up at you. You sighed,

“I’ve been invited to two different parties, and I don’t want to go to either.” Michael chuckled patting your shoulder. He’d never been to a party, but from what he’d heard? Parties were horrible. The loud music, loud people, along with being crowded. An actual nightmare if Michael had ever had one; and he’d had more than a few. He’d kept his notepad close by and scribbled on it,

Why not just stay here? 

You smiled, 

“That sounds nice… I think I will!” Michael shook his head, smiling under the mask. You chuckled propping your head up as you stared at him,

“Come on Michael! You’ve had your nose stuck in that book since you got it! You’ve got to have learned something.” Michael shrugged slowly bringing up the book to cover his face. Truth was, Michael didn’t want to sign anything till he could form a sentence that truly meant something. He’d been wanting to thank you for everything you did for him. His first communication in decades had to be important. He didn’t want it to be him saying, good morning, or, how was your day. That was stupid. With a sigh, you lay on your back, 

“Well, I won’t force you…” Michael hummed stealing a glance up at you. He couldn’t ever explain the rush your acceptance gave him. You had never shied away from him. 

Michael felt safe. 

But there was a loud taunting laughter outside from some passing strangers and Michael watched you freeze. He wished you would feel safe with him too. Who was to say that the group of teens even remembered about the dark promise they’d made to you? 

Michael knew that was a lie… They wouldn’t break in again, no. But they would come back. He wouldn’t let him terrorize you again. You spoke softly,

“The snow is melting…” Michael scribbled down another note

I’m staying. 

His heart felt a little lighter when he showed you the message and you smiled.


	7. New Years and New Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael swallowed thickly as he felt his heart jump. Those strange feelings he couldn’t quite name had come back.
> 
> January passes and as spring arrives not only does new life blossom in Haddonfield...

Soon enough though, the prospect of spring was forgotten as you got ready for the night’s festivities. Different smells of snacks and you hurriedly running back and forth caught Michael’s attention from his couch nap. He grunted getting up and moved into the kitchen. You were gently humming under your breath as you looked into the oven. He huffed as you looked at him,

“What?” Michael gestured around himself. He wanted to help. You paused,

“Do you… Want to help me?” He nodded. You smiled standing and looking around, 

“Well… if you want, you could help me make a cake in a bit.” Michael quietly gasped, oh he definitely wanted to do that. He nodded furiously bouncing on the balls of his feet. You laughed going onto your tiptoes and tapping his cheek. There was a deep happy hum from Michael as you turned away to continue what you’d been doing.

Later when Michael entered the kitchen again you were putting ingredients onto the table you smiled looking up to him,

“You’re just in time Michael! It’s time to make a cake!” You had a book open with handwriting within. He could recognize it as your own, and he noticed it was a cake recipe. You laughed placing a bowl in front of him,

“You can do all the mixing and crack an egg okay?” He nodded. Happy to do anything. You poured different powders, sugar, milk, and something that he liked the smell of. Vanilla you called it. Michael thought he was pretty good at mixing and you seemed pretty happy with what he was doing. When it came time to crack the eggs you handed one to Michael,

“Do you know how to crack an egg?” There was a pause… He did not. Shaking his head you giggled showing him your egg,

“First you tap in gently on the edge of the counter, then when the shell cracks you just pull it apart.” He watched you carefully crack the egg and let the insides pour into the bowl. Michael looked at his own egg and gently tapped it on the counter. Yet each time he turned it over, the shell hadn’t cracked. He huffed tapping it harder. 

And then the egg exploded in his hand. Michael grunted as goopy yolk slipped between his fingers. You laughed pulling him to the sink. He huffed as the water ran over his hand and the egg came off. With a clean hand he walked back to the bowl. You handed him another egg, and Michael stared unmoving. He was not going to try again. You smiled shaking your head as you placed your hand over his,

“Here, I’ll help you.” He blushed feeling your hand over his. Slowly you brought his hand back and with only a small amount of force, tapped the egg. Turning it around the shell was cracked. You removed your hand and mimed what to do. Michael copied it and with a satisfying, plop! The egg fell into the batter. Michael bounced. He had cracked an egg. 

Once the batter was ready, you poured it into a pan and gave him the spatula and bowl to lick. Michael grumbled in delight as he held the bowl. You laughed shaking your head. And heading out of the kitchen,

“If you’d like you can sit in front of the oven and watch it bake. I’ll leave you to your bowl.” Michael nodded watching you leave the room. Slipping off his mask Michael was like a kid again. Watching a pan while licking a spoon. A phantom hand ruffled his hair and Michael gasped. A voice rang in his ear,

“Enjoying nothing weirdo?” his ears rang as he fought the urge to relive this memory. Michael bit down on the spoon. Frozen in place. But the thought continued,

“Ugh, how come I ended up with such a weird brother? Thank god, a basic one would’ve been so much worse, don’t you think so too, squirt?” Michael felt tears rush down his face. The phantom touch curled around him in an ice cold hug. He wanted to speak. To say anything. Even a scream would be better than silence. He wanted to complete the memory. Something foreign, small, and weak bounced around Michael’s skull. 

I love you Judith.

“I love you too weirdo. Now go watch your cake.” 

With a gasp Michael sat up. When had he fallen asleep? Michael hurriedly felt his face, the mask was still there. Looking around there was the stove and the bowl. Had he sat down and passed out?

Grumbling Michael looked at the pan in the oven. It looked a little puffed but nowhere near done. With the gross feeling of having done this before Michael took off the mask and began to eat the leftover batter. This time however nothing happened and Michael slowly began to relax. 

After a while the sweet smell of a cake filled the kitchen long finished with the bowl Michael had been watching the cake. You peeked into the kitchen and Michael with his mask on again looked back to you and waved. You chuckled, taking out a few more things and mixing. Michael peeked over the edge of the table. What were you up to?

Serenely you held out a spoon with something soft and creamy out to Michael,

“It’s cream. I don’t have icing. I’m not a big fan of it anyways.” He gently took the spoon and tucked under the table. Lifting the mask, Michael licked the spoon and hummed happily. The taste was… good. Sweet but not too sweet. Mask adjusted yet again Michael peeked over the table and held out his spoon. You glanced at him before laughing, 

“You’ll get more when the cake is done.” He grumbled staring at the bowl. If he could just steal it-

BEEP BEEP

Michael nearly jumped out of his skin. He shakily hid under the table embarrassed as you giggled. As you went to open the oven you peeked at him,

“Are you okay Michael?” he grunted, slipping out the other side and trudging into the living room. When you joined him there was no cake and he gestured in kind. You sighed,

“It’s got to cool, Myers.” He was almost offended. Until you pointed to the TV,

“We’ll eat it when it’s the new year. Until then, I found a music channel. We’ve got snacks. Plus I’ve got board games!” Michael hummed. Enjoying the music and eating. His impromptu nap slowly being forgotten. 

It was a few hours later when you brought out the cake. Michael had been watching this countdown channel you’d switched to. And they were talking about kissing. Michael blushed, if it was a tradition to kiss someone on new years… Who was he going to kiss? You? He merely blushed more. No way, out of the question. Maybe he’d just kiss a slice of cake? Would that look dumb? 

“Ten!”

Oh shit… Michael quietly gasped. The countdown was starting. What was he going to do??

“Nine!”

Did he have to kiss someone? It’s not like it was mandatory… Right?

“Eight! Seven!” 

Is time going faster? Think Myers think!

“Six, Five!”

Michael silently panicked. He was going to look like the biggest idiot in front of the person he… God he didn’t even know how to explain his feelings to you!

“Four, three!”

You looked so happy… So pretty. Michael sighed, his panic receding. He liked watching you smile. It crinkled your nose, and made your cheeks rise. You were beautiful when you were happy. 

“Two!”

Michael sighed in defeat better, to act confused than-

“One!” 

In that split second when everyone on the TV was laughing and playing. When people were kissing each other on the street; Michael felt a gentle hand cup one cheek of the mask and lips pressed onto the other. Michael’s face felt like it was on fire as he slowly looked down at you,

“Happy new Year Michael! I hope you didn’t mind the kiss…?” Michael scoffed enveloping you in a hug. He didn’t mind at all… 

“Well come on then! Let’s have some cake!” Michael smiled as you snaked out of his arms. Grabbing the kitchen knife and cutting the cutely decorated cake. 

That night as Michael laid in bed. His mind was a whirl. You had kissed him! He didn’t ask or (and he was hoping) didn’t hint at wanting one. You had just given him a kiss! Michael Myers, the shape, the boogeyman. But you kissed him, unafraid. Michael couldn’t stop smiling.

As January passed by Michael sought out your closeness. The snow slowly melted as the world turned a muted shade of green. Michael liked the new colour as he stared out of the hobby room window sketchbook and pencil in hand. Absently drawing the budding trees. 

Art soon became an escape for Michael after another nightmare with teary eyes, he drew a sketchy portrait of Judith. One he later transferred into a painting. You marvelled at it each time you came into his room. But for Michael, he didn’t see it as some great piece of art but a way for him to speak without words. That painting was Michael’s way of letting go. 

Sometimes while alone he would sit in front of the painting. The blurry face of someone Michael barely remembered staring back at him as he projected all his thoughts to it. Some days he would rant internally. Go on about how he hated her and his mother, and his father, and Loomis. How he didn’t know what was better then. How he was confused and scared of the white walls. How he just wanted to see a smile from someone other than Loomis. Hours spent detailing everything done to him. How it was just easier to sink into nothing. To kill himself internally then to make sense of torture.

Other days however were mentally quieter. Those were the days Michael allowed himself to feel again, to cry before this picture. To sob to himself about how much he missed his mother. How much he realized he missed gentle touches and basic understanding. How much he missed living. Endless grief at knowing he would never get to live normally because of what he’d done to himself and others. Not mentioning what others had done to him. In a way he found it therapeutic. A way of keeping his thoughts in check. It was nice.

But he still worried. As the world bloomed you kept the blinds shut and stayed in. Paranoia ate at you and it killed Michael. He began to leave little sticky pieces of paper with notes and doodles around the house. Some were just little happy messages to make your day,

“Good job waking up.”

“You’re very nice.”

“You cook well.”

While others were more focussed on relieving you,

“You are safe.”

“I won’t leave.” 

“I will protect you. : )” 

They seemed to help but only vaguely. You still struggled. Frustrated Michael began to sleep outside your room. Back against your door. However in the morning when he in surprise of having the door opened fell backwards,

“Michael?” tiredly you stared down at the expressionless mask. Michael huffed waving. You sighed,

“Can I ask what you’re doing at my door?” Michael silently pointed to the sticky note (as he’d recently learned) on your door. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you read the note aloud,

“Protecting you…?” Michael nodded giving a thumbs up. The smile that crossed your face made Michael absolutely ecstatic. You chuckled stepping around him,

“Thank you Michael… At least I know I’m safe with you around.” as you descended the stairs Michael was frozen on the ground. You… felt safe with him? You felt safe with him. You felt safe. Michael felt his heart race and his lips form a smile. You felt safe with him! Happily he balled and un-balled his hands, quickly sitting up to happily wiggle. 

He didn’t know why those words made him so happy… But, to hear that you found yourself safe in his presence; it was like a dream come true for Michael. 

Silently heading downstairs Michael smiled at the late January sun. there wasn’t any snow anymore, just thoroughly soaked dirt and baby grass. Michael wondered if there was a better word than baby grass… Yet he forgot all about his vocabulary as you called,

“Michael, there’s breakfast if you want some!”

As you headed off to work Michael retreated back to the hobby room and picked up his sketchbook. He didn’t feel like drawing more of the barren tree’s outside and instead began to absently sketch his hand. As he drew his mind wandered and Michael slowly began sketching another hand holding his. It wasn’t very good but Michael liked it and sighed dreamily remembering how you’d held his hand after his relapse. Michael had to admit he’d been avoiding windows at night. Even the idea of mirrors made him nervous. But whenever he thought of how you’d coaxed him out of his room; it had been so quick. He barely fought back against your kindness. Michael opened and closed his head as he leaned against the table slowly falling asleep.

When you came home later Michael had already woken up and was reading his sign language book underneath the kitchen table. You laughed making dinner and when you turned on the radio Michael smiled seeing you delicately step in time with the music. He stretched as he came out from under the table and stood. You laughed turning off the stove and turning to present dinner when there was a sharp bang on the door. You gasped tensing up immediately. A voice Michael knew all too well called,

“I told you we’d be back bitch! Open this fucking door! What’s the matter?! Were we right? Are you hiding that murderous fuck in your house?! Whore!” 

Michael glared at the front door. Hidden in the shadows of the kitchen he was ready to lunge for the knife set. Though his attention was drawn on you instead. Breathing harsh and erratic. You were crying, with wide eyes fixed to the door handle. The jeers and taunts each seeming to hit you individually. He reached out, you needed to calm down. But one of them jiggled the door handle and faster than Michael could process you were running out of the house. He felt his anxiety spike as he bolted out of the back door hot on your trail. 

The wet spring grass squished under his feet. All he could hear were your quiet whimpers and your footsteps. Visibility in the mask was low, you’d leave his sight every few seconds and he would worry he’d lost you in the woods. Twigs snapped as his breathing rhythmically beat in the mask. You sobbed tripping and hitting the ground. Curled into a ball, Michael huffed, trying to catch his breath. 

Slowly he approached you and without even thinking he held you in his arms. He didn’t want you to be scared. He wanted you to feel safe with him. The water from the soil soaked into the knees of his jumpsuit as he held you. Sat on the ground he gently pet your head as he rocked you slowly. You cried into his chest, muttering and whimpering. 

Michael swallowed thickly as he felt his heart jump. Those strange feelings he couldn’t quite name had come back. But it was now, when he was consoling you. Not even thinking about what he would do to those teenagers. It was now that he realized what those feelings were. 

What name he could give it.


	8. Grinning Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re told something enough times, it’s easier to just believe it.
> 
> With his emotions out in the open Michael worries they've been misunderstood, but that is a problem for tomorrow...

He loved you.

He loved everything about you from your smile and shiny hair. To your lack of fear. To your admiration for him. And he knew, deep, deep down. That he’d felt this ever since you’d cupped his face in the closet. When you’d made his world stop and pause. His feelings had only grown from then on. Perhaps they’d even started when he’d received your picture. 

Whatever the case Michael could only hold you closer. He’d never cared so deeply for someone like this. Frustration bubbled up and he roughly pulled the mask away from his face. He wanted you to understand how deeply you’d wormed your way into his heart. He opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to force something. Anything. He wanted to talk to you. To tell you just how much you meant to him. That he would keep you safe. That he loved you. 

He breathed sharply recalling the first sign he’d ever learned. Then he pulled you out of his chest. He cupped your head and watched your eyes widen. Your cries hiccuped as you looked at him. He felt sheepish and naked. But slowly he drew your attention to his hands,

“Worried.” he signed. It was all he could think to do. Show his face and for his first sign, repeat something you had said. Give that simple phrase more meaning than it could carry. You held in your whimpers as you stared at Michael. Still without a hint of fear… Still with… adoration,

“Michael…” He pulled you back into a hug as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. You held him back in return. Sniffling and warm against him. 

He could feel his heart thump in his chest. He was alive. He was here. Against your neck he could feel your heartbeat too. You were both alive and together.   
After a while Michael moved to stand up while you hiccupped letting him go and shivering. He sighed grabbing his mask and shoving it over his head. As gently as he could Michael picked you up and began walking back to the house. You curled into his chest sniffling, and Michael heard a quiet mutter,

“Thank you Michael… So much.” whatever cold walls that he covered his heart in melted as he held you tighter. You made a whine as if you were to begin crying again speaking once more,

“I’ve never felt more understood than when I’m with you.” Michael rumbled. He felt the same way, and it felt so good, it made his chest warm.

As he approached the house Michael was paralyzed. Bright red and blue lights flashed from the front of the house. The voice of the sheriff calling out,

“Hello?! Are you out there?!” Michael didn’t understand how he didn’t hear it earlier. Ducking into a bush he vaguely shook. You were calm in his arms gently shushing him,

“Michael it’s okay. You stay here alright? I’ll get them to leave.” You cupped his face and Michael whined. Slowly getting up you staggered into the backyard. The sheriff twirled around and Michael saw him blind you with the flashlight,

“It’s just me sheriff Brackett!” the officer sighed putting down his light and quickly walking over to you. With relief painted over his features he placed a hand on your shoulder,

“Are you alright? I’ve got guys out collecting those idiots, but Jesus, they scared you that bad?” You smiled weakly,

“Yeah… I’ve been paranoid all winter. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You gestured around,

“For everything! I’ve only caused you trouble by moving in. I bet those kids aren’t the only ones who think I’m hiding Myers.” The sheriff paused,

“Is that why they came?” You shrank into your shoulders,

“It’s what they said.” Brackett sighed pinching the bridge of his nose,

“What do you know about Michael, friend?” You paused. Michael felt his heart drop, would this be it? Betrayed again? Yet you turned towards the house,

“I know he killed his sister. That he killed a few more people when he got out.” The older man scoffed,

“You say it so blankly.” You held your shoulders and sighed looking over your shoulder to the officer,

“Because he did horrible things, it’s a fact, I’m not afraid of facts. I’m afraid of why people let an 8 year old be demonized. I’m afraid of what those same people are going to do to me.” Brackett paused,

“But if he wasn’t all that bad then why did he kill my daughter? Innocent people died yet didn’t do anything to him but be teenagers!” As you kept walking Michael shivered agreeing with what you said all too well,

“If you’re told something enough times, it’s easier to just believe it.” Brackett stood for a moment before following.

In the cool night air Michael sat on the ground. His heart pounded every time he thought of what he’d done. He felt like an idiot as he replayed the moment in his head. Worried? That was his first ever sign? He couldn’t have chosen “I love you”, or “You are okay” ? Grumbling Michael covered his face. God that bothered him too, he took off the mask! He’d been planning to let you unmask him. He wanted to see your face, as he looked at you and felt human. Instead he’d just chucked the thing off and barely let you see him. Yet the worst thought of all was what if you didn’t get it? 

What if you took this as him just comforting you? Oh god… Michael held his temples, would he have to confess again? But that would be awkward! This wasn’t like… like the TV shows he caught glimpses of, with grand romantic settings. Or with suave delivery. Silently grumbling Michael held out his hands and tried to remember how the book had explained sentences. You’d probably want to talk to him now, right? He covered his face feeling more confused than ever. How did he know less now? There was nothing for him to go off of, he knew you saw his face, he knew you understood the message, but did you understand what those meant? What all the little things he would do meant? Were you doing little things that meant the same? 

Michael gasped, what if you had tried to confess to him already and he’d just misunderstood it?! Was he living in hopeless longing when really he could’ve kissed you a long time ago?? Would you even want to kiss him? Why was he thinking about kissing so much!?

Frustrated Michael went limp on the ground, yet he found himself smiling. Michael Myers rumbled happily, he liked feeling so confused. He enjoyed this kind of chaos, because there was no punishment for it. He didn’t have to fear or be feared like this. Quietly, from the back of his throat he wheezed out a tiny sound, a laugh. 

Michael froze, delighted and shocked, he had no idea he could still laugh. Peeking out over the dense brush, Michael watched as the sheriff drove away and you calmly left through the back door. With a harsh rasp he giggled, knowing just how intimidated the police were. Everyone wanted to find Michael Myers, the Shape, the deranged madman, yet here he was sitting on the ground, thinking about kissing. Michael chuckled keeping his voice low before finally with a heavy scratchy quality, Michael laughed to himself. It wasn’t a loud or annoying sound strangely enough. (He’d always thought his voice would be icky or disgusting if he could talk.) But instead he rather liked his laugh. And as your footsteps approached he found he liked seeing your reaction to his laugh,

“Michael?” still chuckling to himself he looked up at you and your smile made him beam. You looked so happy,

“What’s so funny mister? Thinking about how close you were to being caught?” Michael laughed more shaking his head as he worked out the signs in his head,

“Thinking…. Of… You.” he laughed more seeing your face blush even in the low light of the evening. You sputtered before turning away,

“Come on you… Brackett’s gone.” With a last few chuckles Michael followed closely behind waiting until you closed the backdoor behind him before hugging you. You chuckled, hugging him back, tucking your head into his chest,

“Hey Michael…” He huffed staring down at you,

“Thank you for tonight. I… Don’t know where I would be without you.” Michael rumbled before picking you up and taking you upstairs. Quiet laughter came from you as you let Michael drop you onto your bed. Satisfied with his work, Michael signed with untrained hands,

“Goodnight.” A mere whisper came from you in response,

“Could you stay with me tonight?” Michael nodded, taking off his hoodie and revealing a plain black t-shirt underneath. Though, he didn’t take off the jumpsuit which he’d just tied at his waist today. 

In the morning Michael woke up to the gentle singing of birds and you curled into his chest once more. This time, however, Michael didn’t turn away. He held you closer, and, his heart raced. This felt so much more different than the other times… Why? You hadn’t changed and neither had he. He breathed deeply trying to calm his heart, perhaps, he was just happy. Happy to be with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, this brings a close to the first arc of our story. Those pesky teens won't be bothering anyone anymore but Brackett seems a little more than just doing his job...
> 
> Could this officer be doing more than assisting you?
> 
> Find out in the next arc of A Home For Two!


	9. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did you want to?"
> 
> Even after all these years, Michael couldn’t say,

It had been close to a week since Michael had confessed to you in the woods, and things hadn’t really changed. Michael hated it. 

If you confessed weren’t things supposed to change? Like people would get more awkward, there would be an acceptance or rejection? But you just seemed to carry on as if nothing happened. Which both calmed him and made him panic more. Were you two together now? Was this dating? If it was, why did half of the nurses at Smiths Grove hate their partners??

But the question that made Michael most nervous?

Did you really understand what he had done in the woods?

Maybe that was why you continued on like before… Because you really didn’t know how Michael felt. 

He hid under the covers of his bed embarrassed and frustrated. He didn’t want to confess again; It was hard enough the first time, and it had taken Michael forever to even realize what he was feeling! And no, he was not going to just ask because then, you might reject him, and hate him, and then kick him out and honestly? He would still apologize to you because you had been kind enough to keep him around in the first place. 

In any case, as he heard the front door open Michael sighed feeling his anxiety melt away. Creeping to the top of the stairs Michael froze. You hadn’t come home alone. Standing on the outside of the door, was Sheriff Brackett,

“Are you sure you don’t need anything? It’s been a tough few months on you.” You sighed,

“It’s okay Brackett-” he interrupted you, much to Michael’s annoyance, 

“Please, call me Leigh. I’d like to think we’re friends by now.” You were plastered in the doorframe, keeping out the lawman. Many times you’d been able to betray him, but you hadn’t. Michael was beginning to trust that you never would, and that too, only made him swoon more. Again you awkwardly laughed,

“Yes, well, I should really be going. Have a great evening sher- Leigh.” He glanced around the house,

“Do you need any company? Must be lonely.” You shook your head, providing a slight edge to your tone. Nothing impolite, but there was harshness,

“I’m perfectly fine, sheriff. Now please. I have work to do. Renovating a house doesn’t happen overnight.” He sighed tipping his hat,

“Well, I can tell when I’m not wanted, apologies for stepping on your toes.” You grumbled waving goodbye and closing the door. Michael tapped on the wall from upstairs. Not quite ready to head down. You turned to him and shrugged in defeat,

“Y’know, he means well. Just wants to make sure I'm not getting hounded by people. But god, it’s so annoying sometimes.” Michael chuckled as the sound of a car driving away slowly coaxed him downstairs. You smiled walking past the stairs and into the kitchen as Michael followed. 

This was routine, you would leave for work, come home, make dinner and then the two of you would spend time together. Tonight you’d asked if Michael would help you to tear down the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room however. You’d said something about openness, but it flew over Michael’s head. He was just happy to break something. 

At dinner you spoke about your day and Michael signed his, leaving out the details of spending hours on his bed thinking of you. 

Life was simple. But the wall brought about some well deserved excitement. On an enthusiastic count to three Michael swung the large sledgehammer and felt euphoria as it punched through the wall. He bounced on his heels looking at you for permission to do it again. You laughed giving him a nod,

“Again!” Michael happily swung making the hole bigger. Laughter filled the house as the two of you broke down the tiny wall. Even more fun was seeing the beams within being far enough apart for Michael to burst through. Which he did. But instinctively when he reached the other side he grabbed your waist and with little effort, hoisted you into his arms. You laughed, and weren’t at all hurt. But Michael quickly put you down. He wanted to kiss you, but… Being affectionate, wanting attention. It made his heart and stomach do flips. 

When the remains of the wall were cleaned away and the floor swept and dusted you sat with Michael at the TV. It was common for the two of you just to talk with the white noise in the background but when the picture flicked on. The news having turned on itself, making Michael dread 

“Crazed killer, and mental asylum escapee Michael Myers, is still loose. Police are urging citizens to not approach as he is armed and dangerous. Anyone with-” the TV flicked off and Michael looked to you. Your eyes were empty,

“They talk about you as if you’re a monster.” Michael signed,

“I killed people.” Michael knew you didn’t mind that fact, it comforted him in a way he couldn’t describe; the way you only judged him on his interactions with you, and not by his past. You turned to him unafraid, 

“Did you want to?” 

It was four words. Four words that brought Michael’s mind to its knees. It seemed to Michael, an easy question at first. But with each passing second he doubted himself further. It was the word “you”, that single word carried the whole question. It made Michael wonder who he really was.

Even after all these years, Michael couldn’t say,

“I don’t know.” You breathed out, disappointed? Michael felt a lump in his throat,

“Does that bother you?” he signed, hoping he hadn’t upset you. You smiled gently shaking your head,

“No. No of course not Michael. It’s just, they make you out to be a rabid dog, y’know? Like you are this… this thing that kills on sight. But-” Michael hugged you. He understood what you meant. You sighed hugging him and burying you head in his shoulder,

“I know that you aren’t as evil as everyone wants to call you.” when you pulled away Michael saw a blush dust your cheeks. You glanced outside and puffed your cheeks,

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Michael sank into his shoulders nodding. As much as he wanted to, wouldn’t people recognize him? You paused before reaching under the couch and pulling out a present for him,

“I was going to give you this on valentine’s day as a present but you can have it now.” Michael slowly opened the box and smiled under the mask. It was an eye patch. He bounced, as you smiled,

“You can’t exactly wear your mask outside, so I thought you might like something else to cover a part of your face. Wear it with a scarf and it shouldn’t be too suspicious.” Michael paused, you were right of course but take off his mask? Again? You chuckled nervously,

“You don’t have to take off your mask, but then you can’t exactly walk with me. It’s all really up to you…” Michael fiddled with his hands. Before slowly pulling the mask off his head. He didn’t dare meet your eyes as he quickly slipped the eyepatch over his scarred face. He felt naked and colder. Though being without the mask meant it was a lot less muggy, it still made Michael uncomfortable. He felt you shift and hold out a folded scarf. Michael quietly took it and wrapped it around his neck. Though his hair and other eye were still visible he felt better with the scarf covering his mouth. Shaking slightly Michael looked up at you, and you smiled,

“Get your shoes on mister! The night is young!” Michael smiled to himself stretching out before slipping on his boots. When you opened the door and reached out your hand, Michael hesitated. A million what if’s passed through his head before finally, he took your hand and pushed them aside. Just once he would be reckless, and not think three steps ahead. For now he was free from the voices. And by god, he was going to enjoy it.

Walking beside you in the cool night air Michael felt as though he’d never seen the night like this. Without the mask the world felt bigger, and at the same time, more empty. In a sense the world felt like… more. But above all that were the stars. Michael couldn’t help but look up at them every few seconds. Haddonfield, though populated, was still dark. A trait that Michael coveted for entirely different reasons before tonight. You gently pulled on his arm, Michael felt his face heat up as he looked at you. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable without the mask, he just felt shy now. That you were looking at him instead of the mask. Michael shivered, what a strange thought; Being thought of as someone separate to the mask. Slowly Michael saw a small trail lead off from the sidewalk. He pointed towards it and you smiled,

“Shall we go that way?” With a short nod you both turned onto the path. It was a short distance until you both found a that the little pathway led to Haddonfield flower park. It was a beautiful stretch of field with small floral arrangements planted in and around the place. Michael smiled to himself remembering when he would watch children pick the dandelions as they walked to the cemetery with family. 

You took in a deep, full breath of air and glanced around. Michael stared down at you drawing closer. You pointed to a secluded corner. Michael spied a bench hidden between the trees. He slowly started walking as you followed suit. 

At the bench Michael smiled looking to the stars,

“Special spot.” he signed absently. You laughed sitting beside him,

“Do you want this to be your special spot?” He nodded grabbing your hand and pointing it to the stars. You looked from him to your hand,

“That’s the Big Dipper Michael. It’s a bear and there’s the Little Dipper beside it.” Michael chuckled. It looked more like a spoon to him. He looked to you and found you staring at him. He felt shy again as you smiled to him,

“I hope I’m not being too forward Michael. But you have a lovely smile.” He froze and his face burned. Michael stared back with wide eyes unsure of what to do. Your face went red as you cleared your throat and adjusted the scarf and gently placed you hand on Michael’s cheek. He felt his heart jumped out of his chest. Your hands were so soft and… cold. Just like his own. Michael put his hand atop yours, leaning into your touch without any thought. Your eyes met and it seemed Haddonfield wanted to share in the moment. There wasn’t a sound to be heard as you stared at Michael and he stared at you. You shyly looked away from Michael speaking low,

“May I say something? No judgement?” Michael cupped your cheek with his free hand, nodding. You bit your lip before meeting his gaze,

“I… think I love you.” Michael gasped bringing his hands to his front to sign,

“You do?” You smiled nodding,

“Yes? I’m sorry if that makes things diff-” you were cut off by Michael diving in for a hug, tears streaming down his face. He hadn’t cried in so long, but he was just so happy and grateful… he smiled wider than he’d ever smiled before and when he pulled away,

“I love you.” You were frozen in place, staring at his hands and at first Michael thought he’d done something wrong yet you smiled just like you always did. That perfect smile that showed him a gentler life; A life of control and peace. With that smile he knew everything was okay.

And then there was a rustling from the bushes behind the both of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm back up and running -kind of- a big thank you to everyone who was so sweet on the little author update post, and even if you didn't see that, thank you for continuing to read A Home For Two!! If I can stop procrastinating then hopefully I'll be back at my ol' a chapter every two weeks kind sorta!! Have a lovely day everyone and welcome to arc 2!!


	10. The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just wanted to know he wasn’t already dead, and he trusted you to tell him he wasn’t. Or that if he was, that you wouldn’t trick him into thinking he was.

And then there was a rustling from the bushes behind the both of you.

You both jumped up off the bench. Michael pushed you behind him, ready to lunge at whatever, or whoever was behind them. Was it Brackett? Michael swallowed his fears watching the bushes intently. Until finally the disruptor stumbled out of the bushes, a cat. More specifically a small kitten. It mewled, the short brown fur on it not too matted and beautiful blue eyes shining in the dark. Michael immediately relaxed bending over to pick it up. 

He liked cats; They were quiet like him and didn’t demand attention in the same way dogs did. Though he didn’t mind dogs either. It was just that cats gave off a very understanding feeling when he looked at them. Plus they seemed to understand what he would ask of them unlike dogs. Who would rather play with a stranger than listen. 

Still as Michael picked up the kitten it seemed to like him and mewled quietly before almost curling into his large hands. You looked between him and it before letting out a breath,

“Just a cat?” Michael nodded, as you pet its head,

”Just a cat. Okay.” Michael hummed, he could tell it had spooked you and he could understand why; This had been his first time outside, and it had been your idea. He couldn’t begin to imagine the guilt you would feel if he’d been caught just then. As you pet the small animal you frowned,

“The poor thing must be frozen out here. Let’s get home and give them some food. They look old enough for something hard.” Michael looked to the small kitten as it mewled in agreement. He held the kitten close as you led the way back home. If it was cold he would keep it warm. 

Back at the house you’d laid out a small blanket for the kitten and found a tuna can in the pantry. Hungrily it dug into the food and when Michael watched you place a small bowl with water beside it, the kitten drank madly too. You sighed sitting on the ground beside the little cat gently stroking its back as it ate. Meowing every so often. Michael tilting his head and smiled scratching behind its ear and he nearly laughed watching it’s head tilt as if to have Michael scratching someplace very specific,

“They like it Michael! You’re so good with animals.” Michael blushed shrugging, perhaps he shouldn’t tell you what he’d eaten months prior. Desperate times and all… You hummed getting up and stretching looking down at the kitten again,

“I think I have some of my old cat stuff in the basement…” Michael perked up,

“Cat stuff?” he signed, curious as to what you meant. You chuckled,

“Well I used to have a cat but right before I moved he passed away. I really didn’t want to sell his stuff, so I kept it. I was thinking of asking you if you wanted a cat.” Michael nodded pointing to the kitten,

“Can we keep it?” You smiled gently,

“Maybe. I’ll take them to the vet tomorrow, just in case they belong to someone.” Michael sighed, drooping his shoulders. But you weren’t finished,

“No matter what though, we’ll get a cat Michael.” Immediately Michael perked up. He’d always wanted a pet and he liked cats, so what was a more perfect situation than this! He smiled back at the kitten seeing it yawn and walk back to him. Full already? He thought to himself, gently scratching behind its ear again and watching it meow. 

Though a sudden breeze hit his nose and Michael jumped. He was still mask-less. Embarrassed that he’d let himself be so enthusiastic Michael carefully scooped up the kitty and went back to the couch for his mask.

After switching out the scarf and eyepatch Michael breathed deeply in his comfort zone once more. Holding the kitten in front of him, he expected it to be scared, but those big blue eyes simply stared before meowing and pawing at the mask. Michael chuckled, giving the kitten his full attention, and hearing it gently purr in his arms? It was soothing, to say the least. 

When you returned, Michael was laying on the kitchen floor. The tiny kitten sound asleep on his chest. He waved at you, as you cooed over him,

“Michael… You’re so cute!” 

Michael sighed placing the kitten into your (actually adorable) cat bed. It was shaped like a pie crust with small pillows shaped like fruit. He smiled seeing how the tiny kitten curled between the fruit becoming a part of the pillowy pie. 

You’d said that the kitten would have to stay in Michael’s room for the night so it wouldn’t be lost in the house by morning. Not that you needed to justify it to Michael, who was all too happy to room with the kitten. But you surprised him with your next question,

“Did you want to share my bed?” Michael tilted his head, sleep beside you? Why? You chuckled seeing his confusion,

“You’re a light sleeper, so when it’s morning the kitten is probably going to be loud, and I know you like waking up at your own pace so…” Michael blushed beneath his mask, and he couldn’t help but smile. When normally he hated the idea of being watched, like an animal at the zoo; The idea of you noticing his habits, made him feel just the littlest bit comforted because you cared to notice. 

Michael shrugged as if he didn’t care where he slept. But he wouldn’t mind cuddling with you. Not that would say so, mind you. You smiled waving him into your room. Michael gently closed the door to his room as he followed you. 

After the nighttime routines of you both, Michael hummed laying beside you. You placed a hand on his cheek giggling,

“Do you really love me?” Michael had forgotten about that. He nodded slowly, averting his eyes, before quickly looking back to you, and seeing the moonlight highlight the blush on your face,

“I love you too Michael. So much.” Michael, feeling brave, decided to take off his mask. He trusted you with… him. With his bare, imperfect self. He trusted that you would see him, and not the monster, the shape. That you would see something in him, something he hadn’t seen in himself ever. 

He just wanted to know he wasn’t already dead, and he trusted you to tell him he wasn’t. Or that if he was, that you wouldn’t trick him into thinking he was. As he pulled up on the mask your hand grabbed his wrist,

“Michael, you don’t have to take it off. I want you to feel comfortable.” Michael hummed continuing to take it off. When the mask lay on the floor, Michael smiled to you and signed,

“I feel comfort either way.” You smiled placing your hand back on his cheek and Michael closed his eyes placing his own hand on top of yours. 

He could get drunk off the attention. Off the warmth you gave him and the love he felt in his heart. No matter what Michael would protect you. Even if it cost him his life, Michael wanted to keep you happy. 

The world was ugly and told him he was nothing, but was he so foolish to listen to the one voice that said he was worth something? Even if he’d done unspeakable things? Michael looked back to you as you slowly fell asleep beside him, and as he pulled you into his chest, he thought it wasn’t so foolish after all. 

In the morning Michael woke to you getting ready to leave. He grunted as his good morning listening to you gently whisper back and pat his head before leaving the room. Slipping back into sleep Michael woke only a short time later to knocking at the door downstairs. 

At first he’d assumed it was you and you’d just forgotten your key, but then,

“Hey! It’s the sheriff, are you home?” Michael felt his heart race as he immediately woke up. Why was that annoying man back again?? Grumbling Michael slipped off the bed and grabbed his mask. There wasn’t really anywhere to hide in your room except the closet. Michael sighed getting ready to sit in a closet for hours, again. 

It was much more cramped than the downstairs coat closet. But worst of all, a pair of your underwear had fallen on him and Michael didn’t think he could get anymore embarrassed as he shyly pushed it off his knee. Meanwhile the officer still hadn’t given up. How long had it been? Ten minutes? Even kids on Halloween knew when a house was a bust. Hell, Michael knew that when you knocked on the door and no one answered it meant they either didn’t want to see you or they weren’t home. It felt like common sense. But Brackett continued,

“It’s urgent! Are you really not home?” Michael rolled his eyes. Gee I wonder, sheriff idiot. Michael glared at nothing. Could that man really not take a hint? For someone smart enough to find Michael last year, he sure looked dumb now. An hour went by with no further noises and Michael silently creeped out of the closet, only to find that the lack of noises came from the fact you had come home and was talking to Brackett. Michael could hear the annoyance in your voice,

“I’m busy today Brackett! How long have you been outside my house?” 

“Not too long.” Michael held in a growl, as he continued to eavesdrop, 

“If you needed to talk to me that bad just call me!” the sheriff chuckled,

“Well if I could I would.” there was a pause before you huffed,

“There. Now please, I have to help out this little guy.” 

“Where did you get him?” 

“By the park last night.” 

“You went out?” 

“For a walk yeah. Why? Going to follow me around now?” the sheriff sighed,

“Just be careful. Myers is still out there-” You huffed,

“Please, I live in his house, and he hasn’t come back. He probably died out in the snow.” Michael knew you didn’t mean it but he still felt a little hurt. Brackett sighed his footsteps leaving the house. As the front door closed Michael waited in the doorway of your room for you to give him the all clear. 

Two knocks on the wall was exactly that not long after, and when Michael went downstairs, the mask slipped over his face. He couldn’t be happier that it was on. Because on the counter was the little kitten happily meowing at him. A pretty blue collar around its neck, with you smiling behind it,

“He’s all ours Michael.” Michael’s smile was wide beneath the mask as he bounced on his feet. You laughed,

“I thought you would want to name him?” Michael quickly walked up to the kitten… No, his kitten, with it’s big blue eyes and dark brown fur, yet white nose and belly. Michael looked back to you and signed, 

“Moon. His name is Moon.” You smiled wide,

“That’s a perfect name Michael.” Michael nodded gently picking up the kitten and holding it to his chest. It purred rubbing against him. You smiled hugging them both,

“This house is finally starting to feel like home. Thanks to you Michael.” He smiled. Hoping you knew the peace you brought to him. But of course, peace doesn’t last forever, and the ringing phone sure doesn’t advertise it. 

Both you and Michael sighed. What was that officer’s problem?? Was the word privacy erased from his vocabulary. 

You grumbled picking up the phone,

“Hello?”


	11. Lazy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking the clock Michael grumbled, it was definitely too early for him to be awake. But he didn’t want to continue that dream… Regrettably, Michael Myers stretched and got up completely exhausted from sleeping. As he looked in the mirror Michael almost liked what he saw.

“You were just here, what now?” Michael watched your shoulders drop as you spoke to Leigh. You sighed audibly pinching the bridge of your nose,

“Sheriff- No I’m not calling you by your name- could you please leave me alone for a while? I know you mean well and all but it’s starting to get on my nerves.” You tried to speak but was interrupted and quickly headed off to the kitchen before Michael heard you gasp and grit your teeth a yell hidden in your throat,

“Never call me that again, Sheriff. Good. Night.” angrily you ended the call and placed the phone down before groaning in frustration and huffing. Michael quietly got up and hugged you squeezing gently. You sighed relaxing your shoulders with his touch,

“Thank you Michael. I’m sorry.” Michael chuckled, shrugging. He too could get annoyed like that, so there were no hard feelings. You leaned into Michael before pulling away,

“Come on let’s go make dinner. Food makes everybody feel better.” Moon mewled in agreement as the three of you headed into the kitchen. 

As night fell you were talking to Michael and having him teach you the more complicated signs. He was always happy to help you, and he even found it fun watching your fingers get twisted,

“Okay okay, I’ve got it this time -stop giggling- I can do it!” You smiled laughing as your hands began to recite the alphabet but once again when you reached “E” your hand fumbled and you signed “S” Michael chuckled,

“ A, B, C, D... S... F, G-” You sighed with a smile,

“All I’m saying is that it’s kind of awkward! So is six!” Michael laughed as his hands spelled,

“E-G-G. T-H-R-E-E. E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T.” You playfully smacked his arm, 

“Michael!! That’s no fair~!” He chuckled holding you close and lying down on the couch. Humming you cupped his face,

“Could I take it off?” Michael nodded, feeling a little hot in the latex anyway. He smiled at you in a rare moment when he didn’t feel so shy. Your hands holding his face, the skin to skin contact being something he’d yearned after; for who knows how long. Michael grinned as he kissed your cheek. Watching you smile happily made Michael’s entire life up till now so worthwhile. He just wanted to kiss you and lie with you, and… Love you for everyday he drew breath until his lungs could breathe no more. You had changed him. Stained his monochrome personality with the colour of your love. Yet he wouldn’t have it any other way, because with you, he was happy. 

Lifting himself up Michael leaned forward again and kissed your lips. He didn’t know how to really kiss you, or what he should do. But he was smothered in the feeling. 

You hummed kissing back before hooking your arms around his neck. It seemed neither of you were that well versed in the silent language but it seemed neither of you cared as well. To Michael you were sweet and soft. 

Hungrily he kissed you more, eyes fluttering shut. It was like a dream, the blush on his cheeks was that of joy and he held you closer in his lap until- 

“Meow!” Moon caught both of your attention and suddenly Michael was hyper aware of what he’d just done. His face went beat red as he sat up and looked away from you. 

That was grown up kissing. Not that there was a problem with that, he was a grown-up. But at the same time… did you even want to? He’d totally forgotten to ask. Michael felt you shift off of his lap and chuckle,

“Whoops! Got a little… Carried away there didn’t we?” He smirked to himself nodding. You paused holding his hand and kissing his forehead,

“It’s okay Michael. I… liked it. If you want you we could try again sometime.” Michael looked up, surprised and shrugged, too embarrassed to say yes. He really did like the way you kissed him… Shaking his head he feigned a yawn and waved goodbye before awkwardly shuffling upstairs. 

Lying in his own bed Michael covered his head with his blanket and felt his face go red. You looked so wonderful to him. Absolutely perfect in every single way possible. It confused him immensely that you had it in you to love him at all. It seemed to him no matter what his past was you would always love him, and his chest swelled with joy. Every new feeling he experienced with you, was something he cherished and he couldn’t help but hum to himself happily.

Listening to you wish him a good night, Michael knocked on the wall in response. Before settling himself into bed and drifting off to sleep. 

Alone in an endless ocean Michael drifted. The waves calmly bobbed him up and down, clouds soared lazily past a starry sky. Fish swam among the stars while whales flowed in the water below him. 

One of his hands reached up to the stars, mind ensnared by their beauty. He wanted to touch them. Hold a single star in his hand and cherish it, for he had never seen something so mind bogglingly small yet, so deeply interesting. A voice called to him,

“You’ve never seen the ocean before,” like silk the voice flowed over the gentle waves, “have you Michael?” he shook his head ignoring the water that splashed into his face. Again the voice spoke,

“It’s much like this. Endless. In every way you look it is there.” Michael dared not move. His own mind terrified, screaming to him that he could not swim. The water covered his ears and there was a melody of whales beneath him. Slowly he began to sink into the water, and even though his mind was panicked, his body remained calm just like always. The water was so clear and blue. Empty and peaceful, 

“Michael… It also goes very deep and gets very dark. Don’t get lost.” Michael didn’t understand, and he felt he never would. Why could he never understand…

A hand grabbed his arm and a horrifying familiarity hit him,

“You are a monster of a child. Are you aren’t even worth the effort this place gives you.” It was a different voice, and it held no beauty. Michael gasped as water filled his lungs preventing him from being able to scream. It was so dark… The whales kept swimming and he could still see some stars. He struggled against the grip on his shoulder. He didn’t want to go. Not back into that dark room. His lungs were burning with the salt water. Anything but-

Michael gasped, coughing as he jumped awake. As his mind began to awaken the sunlight from his window hit his eyes first, and then the warmth of your arms around his neck, until finally it was all making sense that it had only been a dream. Another horrible dream. 

You rubbed Michael’s back as he took deep breaths. Beginning to calm himself, after such a panicked awakening. Your voice was gentle as you cooed,

“It’s okay. You’re awake now. I’m here.” Michael sniffed wrapping his arms around you. Finding solace in your embrace. 

As you backed away Michael grumbled signing,

“Sorry.” You smiled pressing a kiss to his forehead,

“It’s okay. It’s not like you choose to have nightmares. Besides,” you pet his head and Michael melted, “I really don’t mind helping out.” Michael nodded hugging your waist as you stood beside him. He wanted to stay like that forever, content to just be with you. With a smile in your voice you pat his head and pried his arms away,

“I’m off to work, but I get to come home a little earlier today. So maybe we can do some painting together?” Michael nodded fervently, and you chuckled,

“Well, find some things for us to paint and I’ll put on my apron when I come through the door.” Michael hummed as you waved goodbye. He was always sad to see you go, but at least he knew you’d come back by the end of the day. 

Checking the clock Michael grumbled, it was definitely too early for him to be awake. But he didn’t want to continue that dream… Regrettably, Michael Myers stretched and got up completely exhausted from sleeping.

In the bathroom as he looked in the mirror Michael almost liked what he saw. There was a person looking back at him, and although he wasn’t dumb enough to think it wasn’t him… He still thought something was off.

He chuckled joking to himself; was it that he needed another shower? Even though he hated Smiths Grove, they had definitely instilled in him a need to be clean. In fact, although they’d treated him like a misbehaving dog, Michael had never once been sick. Perhaps it helped to keep him in isolation for days at a time. 

He hummed as the water hit his head, happy that he wasn’t too tall for the shower after all these years. The warm water thoroughly soaked his hair plastering it to his forehead and then continued his journey down his body towards the drain. His muscles, still trapped in the penitentiary, flexed and relaxed. His learned, silent way of keeping himself physically healthy, since they never let him interact with anyone else. Not that he could blame them, he knew he was at fault for some of his circumstances. Not all of them, but some. 

Stepping out of the shower Michael shook the water from his head and dressed himself again. He brushed his hair and grumbled powering through a few of the knots before giving up entirely and resolving to just ask you for help later.

The day though, didn’t turn out so bad as he tidied up the house, deciding to be brave and simply wear the patch you’d gotten for him. His mask went into his room, atop the bed for easy access if he got too anxious. He enjoyed cleaning dishes and treated himself to a few cookies as reward for cleaning. 

As the morning turned into the afternoon Michael had run out of things to do. He’d already cleaned, set up the painting things (choosing himself and you as the painting subjects), and even drawn Moon a few times for fun. Speaking of Moon, it seemed the little cat had found a toy.

Michael distracted himself as he played with Moon. The little thing mewled to him as he sat lazily on the couch bouncing a string in front of him. He enjoyed watching it “hunt” the string. It reminded him slightly of his own hunts. Though, Michael’s ended much less cutely. Chuckling again Michael twirled the sting around the back of Moon. But Michael was quickly growing bored, glancing to the clock, he smiled. You would be home in only a minute or two, yet when he looked out of the living room window he jumped so badly that he fell off the couch and felt his breathing hitch and heart skip a beat. 

Brackett was in the window, and he didn’t look happy.


	12. Misspoken words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Speak up! Say something! Speak boy!"
> 
> In you… Michael saw a freezing cold rage. He shivered. Never had you been so angry with anyone like this, that he’d seen. Brackett stuttered and tripped over his own words.

Michael was not used to feeling fear. It wasn’t something he experienced, but instead dealt out. He had no idea what to do but freeze. The Sheriff quickly went to the door and kicked it in, gun drawn and pointed at Michael’s head. Michael scurried backwards till his back hit the wall. One hand in front of Moon trying to make sure the cat didn’t set off the Sheriff further. 

Michael looked down the barrel and froze. This was fear… Maybe not for injury, Michael had been shot before, but a fear of losing everything. Michael glanced at the eyes of the Sheriff and found only hate. Pure raging hate and anger, 

“Who the fuck are you?!” There was a warning step and Michael flinched into his shoulders. Seconds began to feel like years as Michael tried to think of anything. If there was ever a time for his vocal cords to work. 

This was it. 

But no sound left his throat and his hands, out of practice began hurriedly signing. He signed anything and everything that could possible get the Sheriff to leave,

“I live here, this is my cat Moon. I draw, I paint, I sleep, eat. This is my house. I’m not alone. My partner is coming back. Please-” Michael didn’t know what to do. Neither did the Sheriff,

“What the hell are you doing!? Speak up! Say something! Speak boy!” and it was those words that teetered Michael over the edge. He was frozen staring at his hands, unable to remember where he was. 

Whether he was in Smiths Grove, or at home it was all anyone seemed to ask him. The voices of family Michael barely remembered pinballed in his skull,

“He doesn’t talk much does he?”

“Speak up Michael!”

“Must be shy…”   
“He must be so easy to deal with, no talking back and all.” and then there were the only voices he could ever remember. The doctors, the police, the nurses, Loomis,

“Answer the question Michael!” 

“Why did you do it? Tell me.” 

“We know you can talk, so just say something!” 

“He can talk, he just chooses not to.”

Everything had to be about speech, why? Why couldn’t he have drawn it, why couldn’t he have read something? Pointed to a feeling… Why hadn’t he… Michael snapped back to Brackett and shrugged curling into himself and covering his head. 

He was scared. Not of injury, or of the Sheriff who Michael could easily take on. But of being taken away from you. Michael was trying to stay, he didn’t want you to see how he could hurt others, and a very small piece of him didn’t want to. If he took on the Sheriff he could probably win, but… He knew it would make you upset. Michael didn’t want to see you upset. You made him so happy. In a way, you even made him forget about the asylum, at least temporarily. He felt so much better with you. He could paint and draw his feelings away. He could feel safe knowing you wouldn’t judge him for something he did over a decade ago. He didn’t want to lose this; his paradise and the closest thing something like him would get to heaven. 

Brackett’s steps as he got closer seemed to echo through the house as he approached. Moon hissed from behind Michael and he silently resigned himself to his fate. This would be the end of happiness… 

“Sheriff Leigh Brackett what in the absolute fuck are you doing in my house?!” Michael snapped his head up. It was you. 

Using pure instinct Michael reached out to you. Brackett startled and pointed his gun, but you were too quick to rush into Michael’s arms and pet his head,

“Oh my god. M- Matthieu… are you okay?” Michael nodded, deciding that he was too stressed, and that now definitely wasn’t the time to tease you for his new cover name. As you slowly pulled away from him and stood up, Michael watched as your usually gentle hands were balled into fists, knuckles white with tension. Your every word dripped with venom,

“How dare you. How dare you come into my house! Threaten the love of my life! And my cat! For fucks sake Brackett, learn some, fucking! Boundaries!” While Michael knew you wouldn’t do anything too rash, he was impressed seeing you step forward and poke the Sheriff’s chest. And with every step you took the Sheriff took on back,

“I-I didn’t-” the man was clearly uncomfortable, and Michael could definitely tell, Brackett knew he’d crossed some lines. But excuses did not seem to make you any happier,

“Oh, you didn’t know my boyfriend lives with me? Maybe because I want some privacy in my fucking life!! Maybe I’ve been happier because I have my long-time boyfriend finally here with me! Long distance is hard you insufferable dick! Can I not have anything in my own home?! Fucking Christ Brackett, I should call you a stalker at this point!” Leigh snapped,

“Now you listen here, I am your father-!” The house went silent as the Sheriff covered his mouth. Immediately the red-hot anger that both you and the Sheriff had was gone. In him, it was replaced with pure regret and misery. Yet for you… Michael saw a freezing cold rage. He shivered. Never had you been so angry with anyone like this that he’d seen. Brackett stuttered and tripped over his own words,

“I’m sorry I- It’s just… You, we accept it Haddonfield doesn’t discriminate- I just-” You sighed deeply before pointing to the door,

“Get. Out.” The older man paused, calling your name, almost as a beg. Again, your voice remained calm as your words held back an intense anger,

“Get out. Get out of my house. Now.” Sheriff Brackett, like a dog with his tail between his legs quickly exited the house,

“I’ll… pay for a new door. You’ll have a new one by tonight…” You said nothing merely closing the front door as best it could and covering your face with your hands. Slowly the air in the room changed. Michael stood up and slowly moved towards you before pausing and listening to you sniff. Quickly he rushed over to you and poked at one of your hands. You walked into his chest and whimpered so Michael wrapped his arms around you and hummed. You slowly followed his lead burying your face into his chest and mumbling to yourself. Michael grunted curiously as you spoke up,

“I’m sorry… I’m not sad… I’m furious and scared, and upset. I didn’t know what to do…” Michael hummed again petting your head and rubbing your back. Anything to make you feel safe again. Hell, the man decided to even pick you up and carry you to your room while you hung off him like a koala. Michael sat on the bed and pulled at the sheets covering you in them before kissing the top of your head. 

He hummed to you, his hand gently tracing your cheek. You mumbled sadly into his chest, grabbing his hand and holding it close,

“Why would he be here…” Michael grunted. He had no clue. Though he was sure (as anyone would) that it had something to with the last thing Brackett had yelled. You grumbled,

“And why say, he’s my dad? Like… I barely know him.” Michael sighed, rubbing your back. Before showing you his hands,

“At least he didn’t recognize me.” You sniffed,

“I guess that’s true. But you need a whole backstory now. Mysterious boyfriend Matthieu won’t cut it I bet.” Michael chuckled,

“Matthieu? That was your best? Not even Mark? Bob?” You whined into his chest,

“I’m sorry it was all I could think of!!” Michael smiled at you snuggling closer,

“I think it suits me. In a weird way.” You hummed with your ear on his chest, he could only assume you were listening to his heartbeat. Michael nudged you,

“I was scared too. It’s okay,” His hands signed it slowly, unsure of whether or not he truly wanted to face that temporary fear, “to be scared, and angry.” You sniffed again wrapping your arms around his neck,

“Are you okay?” Michael nodded and felt you sigh,

“I’m sorry… If I’d have known, I-” Michael grunted holding you. Not another word, he was silently saying, and he was happy to see you understand and simply hold him. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Content to be warm in the other’s embrace. Michael felt your breathing calm and you cuddled into him, the warmth you gave off seeping into his bones. Slowly Michael laid down on the bed keeping you on his chest. Your arms moved to resting on Michael’s chest as you sighed contently. 

This was peace, this was what Michael was afraid to lose. This warmth and care. He’d always assumed he was nothing but cruel… Yet he loved to look over you. To make sure you ate and took care of yourself. You too did the same, even though Michael could be difficult you cared for him just as much. It was surreal to feel loved after so long. He chuckled again signing to you, 

“So… I’m your boyfriend?” You blushed not meeting his eyes,

“I mean… if you want to give this a name… I- I’m not opposed…” Michael snorted and kissed your forehead. He nodded happily as he held one of your hands, fingers intertwined with each other. 

How amazing it was that his hands could be so different. How they had this power innate to kill and enact horrible cruelties yet could gently hold and reflect the love of someone else. Michael paused, did these contradictions make him human after all? Not the creature of death he’d learned to be. Was it the ability to be kind and cruel that made someone normal? You were so kind, like… a garden. With flowers blooming in every which way. Beautiful colours painting a story of your life within the leaves. Life bursting forth. Yet only just before had he seen the thorns. The cold winters and harsh summers that no flower ever spoke of but hid in their colours and beauty. You were beautiful and kind, but Michael had an idea of the cruelty you chose not to show. 

Then Michael thought to himself, he was… cold. Cruel and calculating. He was the rough, scratchy bark of a tree. The darkness of the midnight sky, or storm clouds. He could be cruel. And scratch your hands, strike lightning and make someone feel so utterly small… And yet, to some he was filled with hidden details, of hidden beauty within. He was capable of kindness; you were proof of that. But it was deep within his core. It made the stars feel far away, and the rain too cold to stand. But like you, he had both. Or at least he thought he did.

Then… Was he human? Was he… loveable?

“Michael?” He shook his head and hummed in response,

“Stuck in your head again?” Michael shrugged as you smiled cupping his face,

“You have a very recognizable thinking face Mr. Myers.” Michael sheepishly grinned looking away. Your smile was radiant,

“I love you so much… Could I kiss you?” Michael melted nodding. He loved you too. So, so much, it hurt his heart to think of being without you. As you pressed your lips to his, Michael smiled wrapping his arms around your waist. While you made some sort of happy noise, Michael kissed you again. And the two of you were slowly getting lost in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it takes so long to update everyone!
> 
> my life is definitely a little busier, but this story isn't done and I want to see it through!!


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